World Beginnings

Grocery shopping in China was always challenging   made more so  by the fact that so few of the Chinese spoke English. Body lotion and face creams were particularly hard to find because all had whiteners, as some unsuspecting women discovered after using them for a few weeks when splotches appeared on their face and bodies! One day I was at the big Suego across from school, as opposed to the little Suego closer to my house, I was in the women's personal care aisle desperately looking for a body wash I recognized, when I saw a large display of Cunt Soap. I did a double take and looked around for a hidden camera or laughing people but no one was looking. Quickly I bought ten, it was right before Christmas and they would make perfect stocking stuffers! The next day, I took my “find” to school to share at break and lunch with fellow staff members. The next time I was in Suego, the shelf was almost empty. Nanjing, China 2012

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...

Years ago, my first volunteer job was at a telephone crisis center in Jackson, Mississippi. During Christmas, the director hosted a party for the volunteers and quietly mingled, asking each of us if we believed in Santa Claus. Later that evening, he addressed the group and reflected on his question. He explained that those who believed in Santa were the ones who still had hope. I often think back on his words. Around the same time, I worked for the Mississippi branch of the American Medical Association (AMA). One year, a group of us decided to adopt a family from the Salvation Army Christmas Tree, and we brought gifts to a young single mother and her toddler. The next year, the office wanted to do something bigger. I volunteered to visit the family the Salvation Army matched us with. After meeting a couple of families who didn’t move us, we requested another. We never called ahead—most people didn’t have phones anyway—because we wanted to see the “real family.” What happened next ch...

While some saw him as just another Nazit Saman illiterate horse trader, dressed in his simple gallabeya, I knew him better. Lotfy’s Ladies   was to  be the tee shirts  never made . As he shepherded us down  the dusty lane to the desert past the other  stable owners envious looks,  he rode proud. Nimbly jumping off his horse in the middle of the Sahara to fix a broken stirrup, adjust any strap, coax reluctant rider  and horse through pass rocky; rescuing the foolish who drunkenly dared ride at midnight. Lighting a cigarette  with one hand  passing it  while walking in the cool gathering dusk of  the desert. With only the sound of  horses hooves  in the eternal sand. His eyes could see  the soul, knowing what to say. If gay was the mood, he laughed. If pain was etched on the face he consoled. St...

Oh, the irony! This photo was taken at a small market here in Ajijc. Am I the only one whose jaw is gapping? Why aren’t the feminine products next to the diapers? Or the Downy? The Fabreeze? But no! It must have been some man who equates women’s needs with heavy duty cleaners such as Ajax. Or even worse with pest control! There is a subliminal message here that is as old as the ages!

He wasn’t always like this. In the distant foggy past his mom walked him to school, made his lunch, watched him as he made life’s way. Washing clothes clean, folding and placing carefully with mother’s love. Now slumping on a  dead-end corner to nowhere balled up defeated by life demons. No one notices. Two shoes scavenged from trash foul, piled on the street... loosely clinging to his feet. One dingy grey  trainer, bound with dirty tape. One worn out men’s dress shoe no laces to hold them to his aching feet. Such is his broken, mismatched life. So far from his mother’s dreams. Jocotepec, MX , 2018