World Beginnings

 It is a glorious time of year here at Lake Chapala, Mexico. The sky is clear blue; the lake is full of water for the next year; birds are singing, and wind chimes tinkle. Along the lake's edges are masses of yellow flowers and some white; even though they are weeds, they are beautiful. It is peaceful here, unlike my friends in Florida, huddling in closets as hurricane Ian batters them. It has been a week of excellent and annoying events. My friend, Lissa, helped me catch my cat, who refused to get into the carrier and come to our new rental. That was so good. BooBoo kitty and both dogs welcomed Bobcat home, and soon he found his favorite chair, curling up for a long nap. But in our little slice of paradise, too many people take in a stray, only to leave it in a box or locked in an empty rental. In the last few weeks, more than one person dumped three cats at the Lake Chapala Society, no doubt because it is well known that feral cats are fed there. But it isn't a refuge, and th...

Finally, enjoying the fruits of the  long hard years of toil, sunup to sundown, my father’s sisters, Aunt Janis on the left and Annie Mae on the right, sitting in the shade and enjoying homemade ice cream. Every time I see this picture, I wonder just what they are talking about or, better yet, who? To be a fly on their shoulders and listen quietly. Aunt Janis had three children, and Annie Mae had six, and I never forget this was before Pampers and baby food. Never a complaint, raised voice, or negative words about anyone that I know. They grew up during the Depression, and whenever that subject came up, my Aunt Janis would casually remark, “Is it over yet?” Because my father, their brother had died and my mother suffered very poor health, they often made room for us not only in their homes but hearts as well. Today children in our circumstances will end up in foster care, suffering bitterly for the experience. But they always were there for us.   Whenever there was a family ga...

Siren after siren pierced the hot August evening air, it seemed every local police and emergency vehicles were racing down the carretrra behind me. Within minutes, Facebook posts revealed the terrible news. A man's body was found at the entrance to Villa Nova, one of the exclusive areas here in Ajijic. Getting the Forensic department from Guadalajara takes hours and the body couldn't be moved from the rough cobblestoned road.  Since Villa Nova is just across the carreterra from my house, I often walk my dogs there, and soon after his murder, his family erected this memorial marker with his name, birth, and death day.  We pass this sad reminder of the violence associated with drugs and poverty; my heart always twinges for him.  No matter who the dead are, they were someone's son, brother, and probably a father as well. They celebrated birthdays, holidays, went to school, and had simple dreams. But those are all gone now. November 1 is celebrated in Mexico as the Day of the...

We are born into this world helpless and our path is unknown. Every parent wants the very best for their child and harbor secret dreams, but we never truly know what lies ahead for them. We cherish each success and share their sadness when things don’t work out as hoped. My daughter-in-law, Jira, was born in a small village, hours outside of Bangkok to a farming family. Little could her parents imagine where her path would take her on that April day. Gaining acceptance into Thai universities is not easy, but Jira was successful and earned a university degree. Sadly not recognized in the USA. Brett and Jira met in Bangkok where he was working and they fell in love. When he came back to the US, Jira soon followed and Brett navigated the maze of the immigration process. He said the naturalization ceremony was one of the most moving events he has ever experienced. The judge’s remarks brought tears. What adjectives would I use to describe Jira? Intelligent, determi...

It seems like just yesterday, such a trite little phrase,   you came into my world wrapped in blanket blue cradled in my arms.   I wanted you to stay there forever. Loved and desired beyond any feeble words   on paper scratched.   I want it to stay this way forever. Many bright roads have wandered we, far beyond the the bounds defining mother and son. I want it to remain so forever. Little did we know these shining moments were to light despairing depths May these be gone forever. No longer am I called to ferry you to Boy Scouts, planes and piano lessons. Push you to clean your room or mow the lawn. But I want to do it all over again. Now, it is me who relies on you to keep track of room keys, trolley passes receipts money   and chatter aimlessly, reassuringly. No where under the firmament   is a mother so fort...

Americans spent over three trillion dollars on Christmas in 2013 (https://www.statista.com/topics/991/us-christmas-season/). Parents expected to spend an average of $271 per child, with one in ten planning to spend over $500 per child. Ironically, after all that spending, children often end up playing with the boxes instead of the gifts. These figures don’t even include the cost of elaborate trees and outdoor decorations. I live in a Mexican village where many residents make a living by servicing the expats who reside here, or by farming and fishing. Most families survive on less than $500 per month, with the average family size being four. However, the families I know personally often have six members. Extended family units are common, as pooling resources is often the only way to get by. Last year, I taught conversational English to a group of teens aged sixteen to twenty. As Christmas approached, we discussed their traditions, which revolved around family. Their faces lit up as...

Fall Harvest  Dirty pink bundle left on the street faint feeble heart, uneven   crying, gasping for breath, calling for help.  Who will come? Who will succor the abandoned? The hopeless? Mother’s love absent,  father’s protection forgotten familial support blown away  in the October wind. Time of harvest, but damaged fruit, like refuse, tossed aside without thought. A child is not a piece of bad produce. Charged with doing no harm, oath abdicated...coldly sent to die...alone-quickly forgotten. No record of life... of death. She never existed. But God works in mysterious ways sending an angel to hold her softly, gently.  For the only time  in her short life she was Loved. For Jenine Basaraba, Nanjing China; October 2013