44 minute read
Responsible Journalism” Fred Mittag shares his viewpoint
May 31 and June 1 mark the 100th anniversary of the destruction of the black community of Greenwood, a segregated part of Tulsa.
White rioters massacred up to 300 black people, and the once-thriving community lay in ruins.
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Greenwood was prosperous. People called it “Black Wall Street.” According to an exhibit at the Smithsonian, “Historians identify white animosity toward Greenwood’s economic independence as one of the leading causes of the riot.” The Smithsonian continues, “Before white mobs razed the town, they looted homes and local businesses.” An estimated 10,000 African-Americans were left homeless.
A black teenager named Dick Rowland worked as a shoeshine boy in Tulsa. Jim Crow laws required segregated restrooms, and the only one available to blacks was in the Drexel Building. A 17-year-old white girl named Sarah Page operated the elevator. Dick tripped getting into the elevator to use the “colored” restroom on the top floor and stepped on Sarah’s foot. Sarah was scared of black people, and she screamed. Dick, knowing the danger he was in, ran away. A white store clerk heard the scream and called the police to report a sexual assault. Police arrested Dick.
A white crowd that wanted to lynch Dick Rowland gathered outside the courthouse, chanting, “Give us the nigger!” The sheriff refused, and he and his six deputies guarded Dick’s jail cell for his safety. The mob grew to a thousand men.
The inquiry into what happened in the elevator concluded that Dick had done nothing wrong, and the sheriff released him. Dick Rowland left town, never to be heard from again.
Before Dick’s release, the Ku Klux Klan had lynched black people in the street. The sheriff had handed over a black man only the year before to a lynch mob. So a group of armed black WW I veterans came to the courthouse jail to save Dick from a lynching. A white man tried to take away a gun from one of the black men. The gun went off and killed the white man. After that, the white mob spread out through the streets of downtown Tulsa, shooting black people on sight. The black men retreated to Greenwood.
The white men decided to teach Greenwood a lesson, and the sheriff deputized them all. He handed out guns for the assault on Greenwood. They tried unsuccessfully to raid the National Guard armory for weapons. Thousands of them invaded Greenwood, first looting and then burning. Private airplanes flew over Greenwood to drop firebombs. The National Guard joined the attack, firing machine guns. Afterward, the community looked like a wasteland, with 35 square blocks turned to ashes.
The rioters burned, tortured, and dragged black men behind trucks until dead and shot many of them. And then, the National Guard arrested six thousand black men and guarded them for days at the local fairgrounds. Until 1990, when an Oklahoma State Commission issued a report, history books barely mentioned the Greenwood Massacre. The research was challenging because authorities had destroyed many records as part of a massive cover-up. The Commission knew there were mass graves somewhere, but they could not find them.
Journalism should write accurate accounts of events. Instead, the Tulsa Tribune published an inflammatory front-page story: “Nab Negro for Attacking Girl in Elevator.” The story reported in red-hot terms an attempt at sexual assault – except it didn’t happen. The Tulsa Tribune referred to Greenwood as “niggertown” and suggested a lynching was in order. Historians have attributed the Greenwood Massacre to the Tulsa Tribune’s sensationalism. It was glaring racist reporting.
Like so much racial violence, the massacre began with a false allegation that a black man had raped a white woman. After the riot, the Tulsa Tribune published a story headlined, “Two Whites Dead in Race Riot.” The paper made no mention of the 300 black people killed.
One hundred years later, Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin murdered George Floyd, an unarmed black man. The Minneapolis Star Tribune published the police report without question. They allowed the police to explain things away. The Star Tribune reported in a headline, “Man Dies After Medical Incident During Police Interaction.” Medical incident? “Police interaction” sounds much different from writing, “Police officer alleged to have choked George Floyd to death.” The article reported, “Officers were able to get the subject into handcuffs and noted he appeared to be suffering medical distress.” No, the crowd of onlookers told the officers about the distress – advice they chose not to hear. “Officers called for an ambulance. He was transported to Hennepin County Medical Center by ambulance where he died a short time later.” No, George Floyd died at the scene. Dr. Martin Tobin, a pulmonologist, testified that George Floyd died from asphyxiation under Officer Chauvin’s knee and identified the precise moment on the video when life left his body. “No officers were injured in the incident.” Well, no, George Floyd was in handcuffs and couldn’t have injured any police officers.
The police statement was a big lie, and the Minneapolis Star Tribune should not have fallen for it. Journalists have to be skeptical of their sources and to verify. The Star Tribune should have known that Police departments are notorious for cover-ups.
A 17-year-old girl named Darnella Frazier exposed the lie when she recorded the event on her cellular telephone. Worldwide protests forced the case out of the county district attorney’s authority to the state attorney general, Keith Ellison.
Freedom of the press assumes journalistic responsibility. That responsibility must include critical thinking and skepticism. The Minneapolis Star Tribune failed when they carried the police report that blamed the victim for his death. The common thread between the Greenwood Massacre a hundred years ago in Tulsa and the choking death of George Floyd is systemic racism. Fred Mittag
By Francisco Nava
The Guamuchil
When I first arrived at lakeside nine years ago, I was living in upper Ajijic, hiking quite a lot in the morn-
ings. After one of my hikes, I stopped at Donna’s Donuts for a cup of coffee, sat and watched as a Mexican family across the road used a long pole with a hook at its end to retrieve long, curly, rosy pods from a large shade tree. It seemed more of a game as they were obviously enjoying the work. I asked the mother of the group what the pods were and how were they used. She said they were the fruit of the Guamuchil tree. She offered me a pod and I ate the sweet and tart fruit, careful to remove the large black seeds. The taste was extraordinary, foreign, exciting. As I reached for another fruit the mother gently slapped my hand and told me to eat the fruit in moderation or expect to spend considerable time in the bathroom.
With time and research, I learned the Guamuchil tree is a native of Mexico.
Pithecellobium dulce, commonly known as Manila tamarind, Madras thorn, or camachile, is a species of flowering plant in the pea family, Fabaceae. The Guamuchil tree can grow in sub-tropical climates and is resistant to drought. It spreads rapidly, mainly through the help of the birds that feed on its fruit by dropping the seeds.
Health Benefits
Studies show that the Guamuchil can be beneficial to people’s health. Here are some of the health benefits this tree offers:
Flowers
The flowers of the Guamuchil tree are said to possess anti-inflammatory, antipyretic and antibacterial properties effective for curing fever, general pain, burns, swelling and infections.
Leaves
Extract from its leaves contain antioxidants that help cleanse the body from all toxins ingested from food. This ingredient is also used as anti-ulcer agents due to its free radical activities. It has antimicrobial properties due to the alcoholic content that can be extracted from it. Leaf extracts are also said to have anti-diabetic effects. There are studies that attribute the alcohol and hexane extracts to the cure of tuberculosis. The leaves’ juices are also a very effective astringent. The ethanol extracted from the leaves has antidepressant, skeletal and muscle relaxant properties.
Bark
Extracts from the Guamuchil bark are a very good cure for constipation, eye inflammation and dysentery. It is also used as an astringent and anti-hemorrhagic agent (stops any bleeding).
Fruits
Guamuchil fruits contain both antidiabetic and anti-ulcer properties.
Other Facts
In general, the Guamuchil tree is something of a miracle tree. There are newer studies linking this tree to the inhibition of cancer cells, particularly prostate and colon cancers.
The fruit is rich in vitamin B complex which aids in combating stress and increases appetite. It also has plenty of vitamin C which help strengthens the immune system.
* * * *
As we await our seasonal rains come mid-June, this would be a good time to put in ferns. Maiden hair ferns are quite sensitive (be careful with pesticides), but stag horns will be very happy if they are kept moist and out of direct sun. Some flower seeds to plant in June are cosmos, marigolds, sunflowers and zinnias. Stake tall plants before the rains begin as they will grow quickly. Plant beans, beets, peppers, okra, sweet corn and tomatoes. 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 (tobacco), as an effective spray for most insects, especially white fly. Don’t forget to strain the mixture before putting it through your sprayer.
Francisco Nava
By Moonyeen King
President of the Board for Tepehua moonie1935@yahoo.com
Traditionally in Mexico, community centers revolved around and from the Church.
Modern age community centers, still comparatively new in Mexico, are springing up everywhere along with social services in local government. Community centers create social bonds and an inclusive community built on volunteerism and civic pride. Participation creates ownership, and becomes a place where all needs of the flesh are met along with the frailties, both of equal importance.
They are called multi-purpose community centers (MPC), where everything the family unit needs is addressed. Hunger, health including dental, education, addiction, abuse, sanitation, nutrition, potable water and the list goes on. The soul must be taken care of in the home or in the church. A good community center is non-denominational, non-political, non-judgemental, a totally humanitarian organization and experience. The Tepehua Community Center is built upon volunteerism and fund-raising, with no assistance from government bodies, and is owned by the people. All programs have to be approved by the community. Without community approval you could not get volunteers, without committed volunteers you would have no center. The Tepehua Community Center is one of a kind. It has proved that this blue print works and could be adapted for every barrio Lakeside.
The interesting thing regarding the terrain mountain-side north of Lake Chapala, is that it is partially ejidal land which was given to the indigenous people by a past president for not capitulating to the Spanish and it still remains the people’s land. It is almost impossible to buy today as most titles are in families from generations past. Ten or twelve years ago, when the center was still a vision, a donor bought from the title owner of the Tepehua building a 99 year lease and that is how the vision for a center became a reality. In 2020 the title owner signed over the title to Tepehua Community Center in its entirety, so the center is there forever for the people. It can never be sold or become a private domain. The Ejidal Office said that they would give the center as much support as they could for projects to improve the life of the people. Unfortunately, they had no money and there were no titles left for them to give us for an intended project of communal toilets.
Our studies at this time are focussed on water and sanitation. Of the 7,000 people in Tepehua, 50% have no toilets. Open defecation is the biggest problem of poverty all over the world. Where can people go if they have no private toilets? Why don’t they have toilets? No money to spend on luxury items, and for millions the world over, toilets are a luxury. To hook up to the local sewer line in Mexico costs $1,500 for the permission alone. Add labour and material and it becomes a luxury item.
Communal toilets are a must in congested slum areas. The local people like this idea so much they are offering land that they cannot afford to build on, or land for their children’s inheritance that is sitting idle, for the center to use under contract for communal toilets. Again, community acceptance because of community need. As we have built the first MPC community center in Tepehua, so we will build the first communal bathroom as a pilot program. If it survives 2021, we will build more in 2022. The first communal toilet should be finished by the end of May. We will have a second one before the end of the year.
The communal toilets of Tepehua will create a work exchange. The cleaning crew will be able to take advantage of the center’s programs - help to get their children through school, free medical and dental, counseling and further education. Priceless. They would not earn enough money for those in a full time job!
For the interior decorators out there, if you are changing out your utilities such as sinks and toilets, please remember the sanitation drive in Tepehua. We will come and take away the old one whose color doesn’t please you anymore but is still in good shape to make another home happy. Your reject is another’s necessity.
Stay safe, wear a mask.
By Jackie Kellum
Itry to keep a balance giving equal time to cats and dogs, but this month’s column is more specifically for cat
lovers-owners. But some dog lovers might have both cats and dogs in their household, or may find some of this interesting also.
We talk about a cat having nine lives, but figuring out your cat’s age equivalent in human years is a bit complex. The first year of a cat’s life is similar to a human at 10 - 15 year’s development. At cat age 2 years it’s approximately a 25 year old human. After that, cats tend to age about four or five human years per every 12 months. With this age ratio it is understandable how a cat could develop arthritis, some decreased organ function or neurologic changes in what appears to be a short amount of time and cat age.
Save those cardboard boxes. It may be trash to you, but it’s Heaven to your cat. The major reason for this affinity to them is that it offers the cat a sense of safe protected retreat and security. They can see us, but we cannot see them, so they feel in control, safer and calmer. In fact, a group of cat behavioral scientists even did a study about this. One group of cats was given boxes and another did not have boxes. They found ‘the box-group’ had less stress, and adjusted to their environment better and more quickly. As a side benefit the box offers comforting warmth. A cat’s normal body temperature ranges from 100.5 F to 102.5 F degrees, [37.8 – 39.1 C] which is higher than humans. Cats are more comfortable in settings anywhere from 86 F to 97 F [30 – 36 C] degrees.
Don’t think your cat is smart? Then look at its brain. The cat brain is comparatively smaller than that of other species, but relative brain size isn’t always the best indicator of intelligence. Brain surface folding and brain structure matters more than brain size. Both cat brains and human brains have similar structures. Their brains are separated into different areas, each performing specialized tasks. These areas are all interconnected and can easily and rapidly share information. This exchange of information gives your cat a valuable perception of his surrounding environment and allows him to react to and even manipulate his environment. Cats have the ability to store both long-term and short-term memories. Cats do dream while sleeping and undergo both REM (rapid eye movement) and nonREM sleep. During REM sleep your cat will dream, and may twitch, flicks its tail, or make sounds - this is normal behavior. Cats like humans have binocular vision, which enables them to perceive depth. This depth perception is, in part, what makes your cat a successful hunter and stalker.
If you have ever owned a cat, you know cats love to eat grass. The annoying part is that they never seem to vomit it outside where they ate it, but come inside and do it. This grass eating behavior has been studied, and experts theorize it has benefits. Vomiting may eliminate all indigestible matter from the cat’s digestive tract, making it feel better. Grass juice contains folic acid. This is an essential vitamin for a cat’s bodily functions and assists in the production of hemoglobin, the protein that moves oxygen in the blood. There is a theory that grass eating also acts like a laxative, it helps break down and move fur balls out of their intestine.
Words of caution: check that all of your household and outdoor plants are of the non-toxic variety, and do not use animal harmful pesticides, herbicides, or chemicals in your yard.
Jackie Kellum
By Sally Asante
Crazy English
Small wonder that we English users are constantly standing meaning on its
head. Let’s look at a number of familiar English words and phrases that turn out to mean the opposite or something very different from what we think they mean:
I could care less. If you could care less, then you must care at least a little bit. What you really mean is I couldn’t care less.
I really miss not seeing you.
Whenever people say this to me, I feel like responding, “All right, I’ll leave!” Here speakers throw in a gratuitous negative, not, even though I really miss seeing you is what they want to say.
The movie kept me literally
glued to my seat. The chances of our buttocks being literally epoxied to a seat are about as small as the chances of our literally rolling in the aisles while watching a funny movie or literally drowning in tears while watching a sad one. We actually mean The movie kept me figuratively glued to my seat— but who needs figuratively, anyway?
A non-stop flight. Never get on one of these. You’ll never get down.
A near miss. A near miss is, in reality, a collision. A close call is actually a near hit.
My idea fell between the cracks.
If something fell between the cracks, didn’t it land smack on the planks or the concrete? Shouldn’t that be my idea fell into the cracks (or between the boards)?
Pick up the phone. When someone rings you up, you pick up the receiver, not the entire telephone.
A hot water heater. Who heats hot water? This is similar to garbage disposal. Actually, the stuff isn’t garbage until after you dispose of it.
A hot cup of coffee. Here again the English language gets us in hot water. Who cares if the cup is hot? Surely we mean a cup of hot coffee.
Doughnut holes. Aren’t those little treats really doughnut balls? The hole is what’s left in the original doughnut. (And if a candy cane is shaped like a cane, why isn’t a doughnut shaped like a nut?)
I want to have my cake and eat it
too. Shouldn’t this timeworn cliché be I want to eat my cake and have it too? Isn’t the logical sequence that one hopes to eat the cake and then still possess it?
A one-night stand. So who’s standing? Similarly, to sleep with someone. Who’s sleeping?
Operators are standing by to
take your call. Who’s standing? They’re sitting.
I’ll follow you to the ends of the
earth. Let the word go out to the four corners of the earth that ever since Columbus we have known that the earth doesn’t have any ends.
It’s neither here nor there. Then where is it?
Extraordinary. If extra-fine means “even finer than fine” and extra-large “even larger than large,” why doesn’t extraordinary mean “even more ordinary than ordinary”?
The first century B.C. These hundred years occurred much longer ago than people imagined. What we call the first century B.C. was, in fact the last century B.C.
Daylight saving time. Not a single second of daylight is saved by this ploy.
After dark. Isn’t after dark actually after light?
Twenty degrees below freezing.
Isn’t that still freezing?
The announcement was made by
a nameless official. Just about everyone has a name, even officials. Surely what is meant is “The announcement was made by an unnamed official.”
Preplan, preboard, preheat, and prerecord. Aren’t people who do this simply planning, boarding, heating, and recording? Who needs the pretentious prefix? I have even seen shows “prerecorded before a live audience,” certainly preferable to prerecording before a dead audience.
Pull up a chair. We don’t really pull a chair up; we pull it along the ground. And we don’t really throw up; we throw out.
Put on your shoes and socks. This is an exceedingly difficult maneuver. Most of us put on our socks first, then our shoes.
A hit-and-run play. If you know your baseball, you know that the sequence constitutes “a run-and-hit play.”
The bus goes back and forth between the terminal and the airport.
Again we find mass confusion about the order of events. You have to go forth before you can go back.
The bigger the bottleneck, the more freely the contents of the bottle flow through it. To be true to the metaphor, we should say, I got caught in one of the smallest traffic bottlenecks of the year.
Underwater and underground. Things that we claim are underwater and underground are obviously surrounded by, not under the water and ground.
I lucked out. To luck out sounds as if you’re out of luck. Don’t you mean I lucked in?
I slept like a baby. For most people, that means “I slept soundly,” but most babies wake up every two hours and cry.
Because we speakers and writers of English seem to have our heads screwed on backwards, we constantly misperceive our bodies, often saying just the opposite of what we mean:
Watch your head. I keep seeing this sign on low doorways, but I haven’t figured out how to follow the instructions. Trying to watch your head is like trying to bite your teeth.
They’re head over heels in love.
That’s nice, but all of us do almost everything head over heels. If we are trying to create an image of people doing cartwheels and somersaults, why don’t we say, They’re heels over head in love?
The athlete never left her feet.
Of course not! Her feet are attached to her ankles.
He’s got a good head on his
shoulders. What? He doesn’t have a neck?
She broke every bone in her
body. What about the bones outside her body?
Put your best foot forward. Now let’s see . . . We have a good foot and a better foot—but we don’t have a third —and best—foot. It’s our better foot we want to put forward. This grammar atrocity is akin to May the best team win. Usually there are only two teams in the contest. Similarly, in any list of bestsellers. Only the most popular book is genuinely a bestseller. All the rest are bettersellers.
Keep a stiff upper lip. When we are disappointed or afraid, which lip do we try to control? The lower lip, of course, is the one we are trying to keep from quivering.
I’m speaking tongue in cheek. So how can anyone understand you?
Skinny. If fatty means “full of fat,” shouldn’t skinny mean “full of skin”?
His feet are firmly planted on
the ground. Then how can he get his pants off?
They do things behind my back.
You want they should do things in front of your back?
They did it ass
backwards. What’s wrong with that? We do everything ass backwards.
English is weird. (Reprinted with permission.) Sally Asante
By David Ellison
After Moctezuma II had been murdered and his brother had succumbed to smallpox, the Aztec nobles chose Cuauhtémoc, one of their most distinguished military leaders, to defend the besieged Tenochtitlán and their doomed empire.
He was only twenty-five years old. In Nahuatl his name meant “One who has descended like an eagle [to devour its prey]”; and by all accounts, he led decisively, fought courageously (everything Moctezuma II had failed to do). When all was lost, he attempted to flee with his family and other nobles but was captured.
Brought before Cortés, Cuauhtémoc supposedly said, “Ah captain! I have already done all in my power to defend my kingdom and free it from your hands, and because my fortune has not been favorable, take my life, which will be very just, and with this will end the Mexican kingdom.”
Cortés replied magnanimously, “You have defended your capital like a brave warrior. A Spaniard knows how to respect valor, even in an enemy.” (Such nobility! If it isn’t true, it ought to be.)
Cortés’ mercy ended with his words, however. When Cortés couldn’t find the royal treasure, he had Cuauhtémoc tortured. (He never found it.) Four years later, fearing Cuauhtémoc might instigate an uprising, he had him executed (under the dubious charge of conspiring to assassinate him).
Nonetheless, it is Cuauhtémoc’s giant statue that dominates the Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City today. His visage appears on coins and bills, his name graces many Mexican streets and even a city in the state of Chihuahua.
Cuauhtémoc, the last Aztec emperor, endures as a symbol of heroic defiance before a pitiless fate. It is no wonder Mexicans cherish him.
This is a selection from Ellison’s book-in-progress, Niños Héroes: The Fascinating Stories Behind Mexican Street Name.
By Michael Warren
Purple on powder blue, it’s hard to tell where jacaranda ends and sky begins: across the morning haze, a single bell summons the faithful to confess their sins.
It’s hard to tell where living seems to end and death begins. The tendrils ache towards the blue, and move and blend in silence with the wind – for living’s sake they die, and flake by secret flake carpet the earth which once they canopied.
The azure tent above shakes in the breeze: behind and beyond the village bell I almost hear a sound – it’s hard to tell –a memory of distant deep blue harmonies.
She is married to a ghost, her vows inviolate. Her late husband, she won’t consider late. In fact, he seems much more himself, interred so nicely on a shelf. Her devotion does not lack, because he cannot answer back. His calm demeanor satisfies, far more than would be lovers’ cries. She feels no longing for love’s fires. Selected memories fulfill her pale desires.
The Widow
By Steve Griffin
THE STRANGE GIRL
She was so strange and rare, her worth lacked all compare. It filled our hearts with fear, since all that seemed so clear, was causing us confusion. Was everything we loved, just an illusion?
Her tears she was too proud to show, her laughter too small for us to know. The casual manner of her looks, the constant armload of her books, the faroff gaze in her dark eyes, the poignant music of her sighs, we never valued them as special. We were all too superficial.
Her diffidence we called hostility. Her self sufficiency, goaded our conformity.
When she left, we admitted to no shame.
Not one of us accepted any blame.
But now, I wish I could traverse the years, and hold her close, and share our tears, and let her finally know, I knew the value of her soul.
Carol D. Bradley
Email: cdbradleymex@gmail.com Phone: 33-2506-7525
Sharon Olds
The Lake Chapala Society hosts Open Circle every Sunday at 10AM, a popular community gathering in Ajijic, to enjoy a diverse range of presentations.
For more information and to make reservations, see their website: opencircleajijic.org.
In order to follow State of Jalisco safety precautions, the presentations will be on the south lawn, close to the gazebo, the entrance will be by the side door on Ramón Corona, chairs will be socially distanced. Gate opens at 9:30.
During this period, we recommend bringing a hat and bottled water, and please remove containers upon departure. Attendance is limited to 80 persons, please make your reservation if you want to attend https://opencircleajijic.org/reservation_form.php
Use of masks and temperature checks on entry is mandatory.
Drops of pride. // Gotas de orgullo.
Carrying a message of love for Lakeside.
June 10 to June 30, 2021
Three venues: Chapala, Ajijic, and Jocotepec.
Drops of Pride are a series of activities planned to celebrate LGBTIQ+ Pride Month, with the objective of raising awareness through art for a culture of inclusion and non-discrimination, organized by the González Gallo Cultural Center of the Network of Museums Exhibitions and Galleries of Jalisco (MEG), The Lake Chapala Society AC, the Government of Jocotepec through the Directorate of Culture and the cultural producer Robsmx. In alliance with civil society organizations such as Codise AC, Escucha Mi Voz AC, Guadalajara Pride, Ajijic Cares and Democrats Abroad, Charter Chapala. 15 days of activities, 3 venues, 1 human rights talk, 2 film screenings and 11
Drops of Pride exhibit in Guadalajara
public, private and AC institutions in alliance to spread Drops of Pride along Lakeside.
Every year the month of June is called LGBTIQ+ Pride Month, in commemoration of the struggle for the rights of people of sexual diversity, taking as a banner the Stonewall riots in New York in 1969. Since then, every June, activities are carried out to raise awareness and promote a culture of non-discrimination.
Drops of Pride is the alliance of public institutions, collectives and civil associations to bring a message of inclusive love to two municipalities of the Chapala Lakeside. Through an exhibition of traveling posters, talks on human rights of people of sexual diversity and the exhibition of the documentary “Cónyuges” (Spouses), we seek to generate spaces for dialogue, reflection and coexistence to learn about the current problems of people of sexual diversity, as well as the progress that has been made in the State of Jalisco.
Activities of Gotas de Orgullo.
Itinerant exhibition of the Amor+ poster collection.
A collection initiative of Robsmx and the civil association Escucha mi voz, in which 21 designers from Mexico, Venezuela and Ecuador participate, where through the design of posters, they create visual messages that create a space for reflection on diverse and inclusive love. With the objective of “splashing” more people with the message of love of the posters, they will be exhibited for three weekends in different venues of the municipalities of Lakeside.
Venue 01 - González Gallo Cultural Center
Address: Av. González Gallo 1500, Chapala, Jalisco.
Exhibition dates: June 10th to 13th.
Hours: Tuesday to Saturday 11:00 - 17:00 hrs. and Sundays from 11:00 to 14:00 hrs.
Venue 02 - The Lake Chapala Society - Ajijic
Exhibition Dates: June 18 to 20
Schedule: Monday to Friday from 8:30 to 14:50 hrs. // Saturday from 10:00 to 14:00 hrs. // Sunday from 9:30 to 12:00 hrs.
Venue 03 - House of Culture of Jocotepec “José Vaca Flores”.
Address: Calle Hidalgo Eje Sur 38, Jocotepec Centro, 45800 Jocotepec, Jal.
Exhibition Dates: June 23rd to June 30th
Open Circle Talk: Culture and human rights for sexual diversity
How to generate more inclusive environments and support social groups. We can all be part of the movement to support a cultural change in our environment, to gradually become an increasingly inclusive society without discrimination; we do not necessarily have to be activists and demonstrate to support groups that promote social change from civil society.
Open Circle Talk: Join to support by Rob Hernandez
Date: June 20
Time: 10:30 am
Screenings of the documentary Cónyuges.
With the objective of creating a synergy between civil society and the population of Lakeside, to raise awareness of the current problems and progress in the recognition of the human rights of people of sexual diversity in Jalisco, the documentary “Cónyuges” by Rob Hernández will be screened and there will be a talk with the director and some of the activists who
Rob Hernández
participate in the documentary. Each of the screenings will be led by a local civil association.
Screenings
Friday, June 18 - 20:30 hrs.
Free admission
Friday, June 25 - 20:00 hrs.
Venue: Casa de cultura de Jocotepec “José Vaca F”.
Free admission
For more information and interviews
Rob Hernández, Robsmx - robsmx52@gmail.com // 3315110310
Gabriela Serrano, González Gallo Cultural Center - gonzalezgallo. sc@jalisco.gob.mx 333677 6006
Ballet Metropolitano de Gua-
dalajara presents:
Two very brave dancers from the Ballet de Jalisco have formed a new company, Ballet Metropolitano de Guadalajara, both to give professional dancers from not only the Ballet de Jalisco, but other companies and dancers as well, an opportunity to perform and to be able to purchase much needed group health insurance.
Tickets will be available at the Lake Chapala Society every Tuesday from 10-12 to the right of their main entrance.
The two performances will be held on July 3 at 5:30 and 7:30 at the Ignacio Lopez Tarso Theater (either formally the Diana Theater or an adjacent one.)
If there are enough requests, a van or bus may be available for the 5:30 performance.
For additional information, contact: Suzanne Salimbene salimbene.s@gmail.com Tel (011 52) 376 108 1621 Cell 33 3150 6814
El gato feo café will once again, be hosting readings by local writers and have a bookcase for book purchases of many local authors. Watch this space for re-opening and readings.
An Early Morning Walk along an Ancient Lake
By Don Beaudreau
The sun is just coming up over Lake Chapala while I take my morning walk. And my thoughts turn to things I cannot explain…
My first conscious memory occurred when I was three years old and was being held over my dead grandfather and told to kiss him goodbye. Welcome to Appalachia – or at least to my mother’s side of the family in rural western Maryland in 1948. It was like a never-ending “Spoon River Anthology.” Death was always there in that little village. In fact, people even seemed to look forward to somebody’s passing so they could have a party— or a “wake” as we ScottishIrish called it. I could go on about such an event being a noble occasion, a time when one and all might realize his/her mortality, coming together as we did to celebrate the mystery and the wonder of life — but I won’t go on. Because as a three-year-old cherub, I was in no state of mind to think of such things as I dangled over my dead grandpa. All I felt was terror in that front parlor of our ancestral home where the body was laid out. And I remember being forced to kiss him on his cheek.
Fast forward a few years. I am a boy of twelve or thereabouts. And I am again in that front parlor where, because the house is full-up with family members for some occasion or other, I have been told I must sleep. And on the couch that was in the very spot where Grandpa Bennett had been laid out in his casket nine years previously. Believing myself to be totally mature despite being twelve, I went to bed quite sure that visions of kissing Grandpa’s dead body were not going to continue running amok in my mind as they had been ever since the event itself occurred. But I was wrong. It was a terrifying night. There were those visions. And coupled with every creaking noise in that old house, was my overriding sense that Grandpa was there in the room with me! To use Emily Dickinson’s line to describe my own absolute terror: I felt “zero at the bone.” Tom Bennett was there I was sure — communicating to me without words — but then, I was told that he never talked much to begin with!
Four years later, at the age of 16, I am standing over my grandmother Clara’s dying body and holding her
hand. I am the only one in the hospital room with her when she suddenly opens her eyes, stretches out her arm, and says: “I see you, Tom. I’m coming to you,” and dies.
Many years later, I met my paternal grandmother for the first time. I visited the Rhode Island village where my father was born, a place I had visited only once before some 40 years before. The occasion back then was the first and last time I saw my father’s two youngest brothers. Forty years later, I had one surviving uncle and he was the one I visited in that village, a place he had lived in all his life. Uncle Herve and I talked of the past. And he helped me put some missing pieces together about my father. And then we went to visit the family cemetery. “Beaudreault” was carved on most of the headstones, including my grandfather’s and his second wife’s.
“But where is my grandmother’s grave?” I asked my uncle.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t know?” I said. “But she’s your mother.”
“She’s in the other cemetery but where exactly I can’t say,” he said.
“Can you take me to it?” I asked.
It took us less than ten minutes. We came upon a very old cemetery, with chipped and twisted headstones.
“She’s here somewhere. You father and your Uncle Arthur found her once.”
Uncle Herve was talking about their discovering her grave many decades ago! He, himself, was only two years old when his mother died in 1922, and he didn’t remember her; he hadn’t known her, really, just like I hadn’t known her, although we both had heard a few stories. My uncle and I began to search for Regina LaRose Beaudreault, choosing to walk separately through row upon row of aged stones.
We were Frenchmen looking for our heritage; for a sign of our connection. We met somewhere in the center of all that timelessness.
“I can’t find her,” I said, about to give
up.
“She’s here somewhere,” he said, playing the laconic New Englander. “I remember your father saying something about her being here.”
And then it happened. For whatever purpose under the sun, I was drawn to a distant corner of that cemetery; drawn to it as if fate were calling me to a longdelayed rendezvous. I knelt down at a grave set away from the others; one marked as different by its isolation. No name I could see was carved on that weather-beaten stone; no date of birth or death. Snow and sun and time had eroded all trace of memory.
But I knew, I knew.
I knelt beside the tombstone, then put out my hand to touch that stone and witnessed my trembling fingers tracing through time, digging deeply into that marble, uniting the generations: Regina LaRose Beaudreault.
“Come quickly, Uncle Herve!” I shouted, as if she were about to flee from us. “I’ve found her!”
Each of us held back our tears as Regina’s son met her again, and her grandson met her for the first time...
Life. Death. In between.
Indeed, what about the “in between”? Consider the word taken from Lamaist Buddhism: “bardo.” In The Tibetan Book of the Dead, “bardo” means an “island” or “intermediate state.” It is further defined as the interval of suspension after we die but also refers to suspension in the living situation...not being sure of our ground, not knowing quite what we are getting into…“bar” means in between and “do” means…a sort of landmark between two things.
Ah! The mystery of being human! How fortunate I am that I have time during these days of my retirement from a professional life to contemplate that mystery while I walk along the shores of this ancient lake early in the morning.
Godsend
By Anna Elena Berlin
The definition of godsend is:
noun 1. a very helpful or valuable event, person, or thing.
I’m pretty sure the word originated with a person that experienced a miraculous blessing in their life. Is it possible to express enough gratitude to somebody who enables a miraculous blessing in your life? You decide as you read this story.
I thank my friend Zofia for introducing me to her housekeeper, Raquel Chavez, when I told her that I needed help cleaning the house. Raquel was a wonder, she not only cleaned the
Raquel Chavez
house, she made it perfect the way I wanted it to be perfect. She was also willing to run errands, do shopping, and help me in any way she could.
When my life in Mexico fell apart she helped me pack up my house so I could seek healing and start anew. When I came back to Lakeside with my husband, she was our housekeeper. But she didn’t just clean the house, she cut fresh fruit for my morning yogurt. It sounds like a small thing but it was really special to me. When the summer was over, she stored a lot of my things at her house... for two years.
This may seem mundane to you, but that’s because I haven’t gotten to the good part yet, which started in Athens Greece. That’s where a simple 45-minute, ¾ inch incision surgery on my lower back turned into 3.5 hours, seven inch incision surgery. It ended my intense back pain, as much of a relief to my husband as me, but I needed rehabilitation.
My neurosurgeon told me that in three months I needed to swim, swim, swim to recover from my surgery. A month-and-a-half later we both caught Covid-19 and were very sick for three weeks. Just as I was getting well enough to go swimming, the country of Greece closed all the swimming pools due to the pandemic. Even after moving to Colorado I was not able to swim much because they kept closing the pools due to Covid. Desperate for alternatives, I realized I could swim safely everyday by renting a place with a private pool in Mexico.
I could be confident driving to Lakeside if I traveled with someone else, and my husband was stuck in Greece. When you’re almost seventy staying awake at the wheel can be challenging, especially if you’re driving eleven hours a day. The only person that might be available and willing, that I wanted to have in the car for such a long trip, was Raquel.
She is a kind and generous person that was married to an American, and took care of another American that was disabled for many years. She is a very good woman with a sweet disposition, so I asked her if she could help me and that I would gladly pay her. My plan was to fly her from Guadalajara to Los Angeles, where I was visiting my sister, then we would drive to Lakeside.
Just when you think life can’t get much weirder, it does. She told me that she was already in California, so I bought her an air ticket from San Jose to Los Angeles and we were off. What a relief to know that my favorite Mexican companion was going to be with me on this long journey through Mexico.
So what is the Godsend part you are wondering? Because my legs were so weak, Raquel became my legs and helped me every time walking was involved. She would go into stores and restaurants, help me check into hotels, and carry my bag. Most importantly, at the border she helped me get the papers required to temporarily import my car into Mexico.
Raquel is petite but she is energetic, strong, and spry. Whatever I needed she would help me with, and when I didn’t ask—she would offer assistance. We were truly blessed, everything on the journey went well and we both enjoyed our 3 ½ days together.
I settled into my West Ajijic studio apartment, with a big swimming pool only steps away, and started rehabilitating. In a few days Raquel came to help me unpack, do my laundry, and made fresh fruit for my yogurt addiction. She also brought me groceries, and my things that she had kept for two years.
This lovely woman is the epitome of true friendship. The only thing that stood between me and recovering from major back surgery was someone to be with me on the long drive through the Sonoran Desert. How do you express gratitude to someone who gives of themselves in such a wholehearted way? I suppose the only real way is to continue to cherish our friendship for as long as I am able to.
I no longer want her to housekeep for me because she’s almost 65, but I will continue to ask her to help me in other ways. And, I will continue to pay her more than she asks, because she has a large family and she is worth more than money can pay for.
When does someone that works for you become more valuable as a friend? I believe it is when they enable miracles in your life. Thank you Raquel with all my heart, you are the reason I will regain my walking abilities and my strength… you are a true Godsend in my life.
Anna Elena Berlin
By Michael Warren
Skylight By David Hare Directed by Collette Clavadetscher
This play premiered in London in 1995, and it has received many awards and nominations, including a Tony Award for Best Play in
1997. Somehow it already seems dated, at least to a North American audience.
Essentially the play is about forgiveness, or the lack of it. As the scene opens, a young man “Edward” comes to visit “Kyra” in her miserable cold apartment. He asks her to talk to his father “Tom” who had a love affair with Kyra several years ago. We soon discover that Kyra is much younger than Tom, and had been his mistress for six years until Tom’s wife found out about the affair. Then Kyra walked out on him, never to speak to him again. Subsequently, Tom’s wife becomes ill and dies of cancer. So there’s plenty of guilt and self-punishment to go around.
Tom appears on the scene, and the rest of the play is more or less a monologue as Tom rants at Kyra and attempts to reestablish their relationship. Is it possible? Did they ever love each other? Is the past too difficult to overcome? Dave McIntosh gives an amazing performance as Tom – he carries the play and is entirely believable in his pain and his need to be forgiven. He is very wealthy and successful, but he has a hard time expressing love. And of course his wife never forgave him. By contrast, Tina Leonard is subdued as Kyra, who seems happy living in extreme poverty. She teaches math at a school for problem kids in the slum area of east London. Tom yells at her for her self-inflicted martyrdom, but she doesn’t seem to care, and lands a few blows of her own. In many ways, it’s a more difficult part to play because it’s so understated, and Tina does well though I couldn’t always hear her lines. Enrique Nedar has a small cameo part as Tom’s son Edward and performs it with some zest.
In North America, it is a virtue to be a successful entrepreneur, so we tend to empathize with Tom. Why should he apologize for it? In fact he doesn’t, and he’s proud of his success. But the audience is also led to believe that Kyra is happy in poverty. This doesn’t make much sense, unless at some level she is punishing herself. As the play ends, she sends Tom away – it seems that they both need to be unhappy. The play was very long, and could have benefited from some editing. I’m not sure that Edward’s role was necessary to the action. Perhaps that part could have been eliminated. Collette Clavadetscher chose an interesting play and directed it cleverly, plus she had two very good performers in Dave McIntosh and Tina Leonard. Thanks to ART and congratulations to all involved in this production.
Michael Warren
