World Beginnings

Looking back on a fantastic 2021! Despite the pandemic, I was able to get the Pfizer vaccine here, so I feel protected, and no one close to me was sick. It was a year of milestones in so many ways, and I am so grateful to have lived to see the realization of many personal dreams and hopes for others come to fruition. June was a Red Letter Day for my son, Brett, who received his Masters's in IT from the University of Denver. Because I taught overseas and our end of the school year was mid-June, I could never attend any of his graduations, so this was more than special; it was a first! But I am also very proud of his research paper which focussed on improving the minority ratio in IT. It was a stellar paper noted by his professor and everyone who read it. After the ceremony, we drove to a luxurious condo in Aspen, and we were agog at the airport as we were driving into the town. I have never seen so many private luxury airplanes in my life and can only imagine what it must look like

  We showed up at the ruin of a house in   Chapala in June 2019, armed with cleaning supplies, mops, brooms, and buckets, called to help via a local Facebook group. Beyond the wall was filth and chaos defying description, and in the middle of this inferno was Jose, scooting around in the dirt, dragging his useless legs behind him. Clad in a shirt and in a diaper, clutching a corn tortilla. He was almost eight years old and grossly underweight. How he was even alive was a miracle, milagro. Locals had long been aware of Joe's plight and his tragic family circumstances. His great grandmother, Anita had taken him in after his mother was found in an unmarked grave, a victim of all too common drug wars, and his father, though unlisted on his birth certificate, was in prison on drug charges. At this point, Jose was very young but it soon became clear he could not walk so he joined the dogs and cats on the ground eating what he could find or was tossed his way. No one worked in the family

  A few days ago, my dog, Paco, chewed through yet another expensive new leash. I sighed and looked at all of the unusable leashes draped over the railing. Then I realized that I could take it to the little shoe repairman whose shop was nearby. Of course, here in my little village of 11,000, everything is close at hand. When I got to Humberto’s dark, dusty shop, I found him watching something on his phone, with shoes,   belts, and all sorts of leather things stacked up, filling the tiny shop. But the back walls were covered in posters advertising the events where he had performed. Some showed a very youthful and handsome man, while others were of a proud older gentleman. Using my broken Spanish, I explained my dog had chewed through yet another leash and could he sew it up? Smiling at me, he answered in English that he could, and I could just wait. His first step was to apply industrial strength glue, and while we waited for the glue to dry, I asked him if he sang? Putting the leash in