THE FRIEND WHO WAS ALWAYS THERE

Today I celebrate the life of a childhood friend. Rogelio Cantu and I were elementary students in the same, catholic school: El Instituto Rougier. The school is still there today, educating our little Veracruzanos inside a big building, in front of the sea. From those balconies that wrap around the classrooms, we would see the sea in its glorious peace or fury. And in that garden our bustle would be chorus to the noisy hustle of passersby in the boulevard - the volovanero, the coconut seller, the tram and the busses ... Today the jarocho children continue wearing the same, much too hot, uniform (pleaded skirts made with wool fabric and knee socks - bermuds for the boys) and the poor nuns are still melting inside their long skirts and nylon stockings.

I remember Rogelio him that, in his shorts just above his bony knees, his shirt always starched and his polished shoes. What I remember most about him is his smile. He was a tall, skinny boy and the typical classroom spectator who enjoyed thoroughly the comedy around him – the boy pulling the girl’s braids and the bully grimacing at the nun's back...

Rogelio's family owned ranches and that is where the nun’s organized their fund raising parties. In those parties we played the games of those times (pulling the rope, putting the tail to the donkey, piñatas, etc). The game I remember most is the wedding game. A girl would be “kidnapped” and transported to a “church” to get married. Thus was my first wedding to a boy named Aurelio Baldizan (R.I.P) - a boy whose head was way too big. I was married against my will.

When I was nineteen years old I married my husband willingly and we moved to Seattle, Washington. Thirty years passed and I did not see Rogelio again nor many of my school friends. Every time I went back to Veracruz, I only had time to visit my numerous family members. As is often the case, my classmates had scattered all over the country and beyond.

A couple of years ago I was surprised to receive a "whatsup" invitation to join a group named "The Aurelianos". The administrator and founder of the group was Rogelio Cantú. Thus I learned that my elementary school husband, Aurelio, had died. I also learned that "Rougier's boys" had been with him, supporting him, in his last days in this world. The solidarity of my classmates moved me. The fact that a Rogelio was now bringing us together (at least virtually, in the name of our school friend, seemed to me a beautiful act on his part. I joined the group gladly and with curiosity.

Little by little I began to reconnect with those "boys and girls" that today (mostly) are grandparents. A year ago, when I presented my novel in my beloved city, we met for dinner and they didn’t let me pay! Many of them attended my novel’s presentation.  Their display of affection touched me. It was nice to see them again. In April when I returned to Veracruz I met with Rogelio, la Veci and Rocío (other companions) in a cafe. Rogelio came to see us, even though he was not feeling well. I never imagined it would be the last time I would see him.

There are two things I have learned by participating in my classmates Whatsup chat. The first is this: the nuns did a good job instilling in us values uch as loyalty, benevolence and kindness. The more I get to know (or recognize) my friends, the more I am surprised at what they have accomplished with their lives for their own good, and for the good of their communities. I observe with admiration the respect and affection that they maintain in the chat and I am convinced that that patience and altruism displayed we owe it to Rogelio.

The second jewel for me is this: friends are always there and distance matters little. At any moment you can resume old friendships, you only need a little push, like the one that Rogelio gave us.

I do not know when that tall, skinny boy decided to step onto the stage and take part in the drama of our lives, but I grateful that he did. Above all, I appreciate the fact that our dear Roger never lost his smile. Wherever he is I know that he is enjoying the odyssey. I can already see him setting up a chat with those who, like him, got ahead of us. 

DESPACITO

The good thing about living long enough to become a grandmother is that life gives us second chances to enjoy it. This week I went back to the Puesta del Sol elementary school to give poetry workshops. It's the same school that my little children attended, more than thirty years ago! At that time I was a young mom and my only interest was for my kids to get good grades and behave well. My routine was a swirl of haste and I spent my life running behind time which I could never catch – it ran was faster than a chased hare! I know that the hours and the days run at the same speed but, somehow, I never felt rushed last week. I had a total of 390 students from first to fifth grade and believe me when I say that that I enjoyed each and every one of them thoroughly.

Our theme was animals and the challenge for my students was to choose an animal and write a sensory poem. They could select any type of animal: wild animal, farm, domestic, endangered or even write about abused animals. Almost all my poets chose to write about their pets but there was no shortage of those who preferred to write about the animal that they have always longed for, like a dinosaur.

Ah! How easily they were inspired. And although Spanish is their second language, the classrooms soon were flooded with beautiful words in Castilian that, hand in hand, outlined dogs, lizards, lions and unicorns. There was one blue narwhal and more than one stuffed animals because they are also pets.

Several times when I looked up I seemed to recognize two little ones whose smiles I will never forget. Oh! How I would I wish I could be with them again creating rhymes and writing images of their favorite animals. How delicious it would be to turn back the time and stop the soulless hare and without worrying that the dishes are still dirty in the house, and the beds unmade. Here goes an apology to my boys – to those children who got good grades and who (almost always) behaved well for wasting time on trivial tasks. And to life a BIG THANK YOU for allowing me to enjoy my students and my grandchildren! again. This time around without hurrying. Despacito. Like the song. 

EGGS AND POETRY

There is nothing like fresh eggs and the poetry of Ruben Darío to make the world a beautiful place again. Yesterday I almost packed my books and moved to another planet. The media, Facebook and Twitter had done a good job of portraying all that is wrong with humanity: the murders in Charleston, ISIS, Mr. Trump’s xenophobic, political remarks and mothers who murder their children and put them in the freezer! The commentary was the worst – hatred building upon hatred. I was sad and deeply troubled so I did what I always do when my grandchildren are not around to make me smile: I buried myself in poetry.

The book “Azul” by Ruben Dario was a gift from one of my heroines, Vicki Heck, my neighborhood librarian. Her gift was not the book, per se (which was borrowed from the library), but the life she has invested to make sure that people like me enjoy reading good books in our own language. She was the first librarian in King County willing to host a book club in Spanish. Yesterday we finished our second year! Today, thanks to Vicki, there are four more libraries hosting book clubs in Spanish. Slowly but surely the King County library system is enhancing their collection to make more books available in Spanish to the public for free. So far we have read Isabel Allende, Gabriela Mistral, Mario Vargas Llosa, Eduardo Galeano, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Federico Garcia Lorca and many other wonderful Spanish and Latin-American authors. Last month one of the readers said that it was the first time he read Garcia Marquez and that “It was like eating a delicious candy.”

Last night the group gathered and when I arrived (late!) they announced, excitedly, that Vicki had left me a “surprise.” I immediately went to get it thinking it may be something I could share with the group. It was a dozen eggs! She left a sweet note (which I am sharing) and a photo of her three hens. I am so grateful to Stretchie, Penny and Margo, for kindly laying their eggs so that Vicki could share them with me!

So I’ve decided I will stay put on this planet. I will follow Vicki’s example and do all in my power to open doors and share my bounty. The media will not deprive me of all the candy there is to enjoy: like fresh eggs and poetry.