Saw you in the Ojo
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Saw you in the Ojo
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D IRE C TOR Y
Index...
PUBLISHER David Tingen
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
28 COVER STORY
Victoria A Schmidt
EDITOR EMERITUS Alejandro Grattan-Dominguez
Don Beaudreu shares his view on “The Magic of Lakeside”
Tel: (01376) 765 3676, 765 2877 Fax: (01376) 765 3528 Graphic Design Roberto C. Rojas Reyes Diana Parra Morales Special Events Editor Carol D. Bradley Proofreader Jan Manning Theater Critic Michael Warren Book Review Panel Margaret Van Every Margaret Porter Clare Gearhart Roving Correspondent Dr. Lorin Swinehart
Sales Manager Bruce Fraser Carmene Berner ADVERTISING OFFICE Av. Hidalgo # 223, Chapala Mon. thru Fri. 9 am - 5 pm Sat. 9 am - 1 pm Tel. 01 (376) 765 2877, 765 3676 Fax 01 (376) 765 3528 Send all correspondence, subscriptions or advertising to: El Ojo del Lago www.chapala.com elojodellago@gmail.com
8 Once again, Neil McKinnon entertains us with his views on “Stuff.” 10 “Ajijic ‘s First Cardiac Catheterization” Our newest columnist, Dr. Sergio Morret, describes this delicate procedure.
Photo by Heidi Lane
COLUMNS THIS MONTH
12 Sydney Gay “How I Became a Cartoonist.” 16 David Dennis describes his Moment of Mexican Grace under “Compassionate Medicine.”
6 Editorial 14 Vexations and Conundrums
24 Sally Asante shares more of her “Word Salad” and the craziness of the English in this last installment.
18 Verdant View
34 The Conclusion of Carol Bowman’s “Just One More Temple Papa”
20 Profiling Tepehua
38-40 “The Roots of Heaven are These” Dr. Lorin Swineheart.
22 If Pets Could Talk
42 Mel Goldberg teaches us how “Mimi Learns to Bargain.” 44-46 Margie Harrell shares her story in “Mis Tres Amigos.” 48 In “Notes from the Quebec Wilderness” Gabriel Blair Shares “The Year of The Residential Rodents.” 50: “Let the Commencement Begin” Tom Nussbaum presents an amusing view of commencement ceremonies.
Ave. Hidalgo 223 (or Apartado 279), 45900 Chapala, Jalisco Tels.: 376 765 3676, Fax 376 765 3528 PRINTING: El Debate El Ojo del Lago aparece los primeros cinco días de cada mes. (Distributed over the first five days of each month) Certificado de Licitud de Título 3693 Certificado de Licitud de Contenido 3117. Reserva al Título de Derechos de Autor 04-2011-103110024300-102 Control 14301. Permisos otorgados por la Secretaría de Gobernación (EXP. 1/432 “88”/5651 de 2 de junio de 1993) y SEP (Reserva 171.94 control 14301) del 15 de enero de 1994. Distribución: Hidalgo 223 Chapala, Jalisco, México. All contents are fully protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the written consent of El Ojo del Lago. Opinions expressed by the authors do not necessarily reflect the views of the Publisher or the Editor, nor are we responsible for the claims made by our advertisers. We welcome letters, which should include name, address and telephone number.
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COVER IMAGE
VOLUME 37 NUMBER 12
El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
26 Fascinating Tales of Mexican Street Names 30 Lakeside Living 36 Unsung Heroes
Saw you in the Ojo
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COLUMNIST
Editor’s Page By Victoria A. Schmidt
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feel as though we’ve become like moles, finally sticking our noses out of their burrows. As more people get vaccinated, more people venture outside. Activities are being scheduled and we have more choices about where we can spend our time. There is almost a giddiness. But we must also be very careful. There are still many people who have yet to be vaccinated. Many essential workers are in the younger age brackets and have not been vaccinated. So, the restrictions of masks and hand sanitizer and temperature checks are still all in play. And the Delta Variant is building in Mexico. As groups get started again, it is good to ask a group leader, as there has been misinformation printed regarding times and venues. There are bound to be a few bumps along these roads. And speaking of roads. Let us all take a moment for a long primal scream of frustration that is brought about when experiencing the WalMart intersection. Ahhh, feel better? It will be different next week. You might want to try to go to Guadalajara. But there, too, are endless sections of change. Expect that anywhere you are going, you are going to need more time to get there. There are many changes out
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there. In Chapala, there were at least four businesses right next to one another that just aren’t there anymore. I don’t know if it was the lack of business because of COVID, the lack of parking because of the ciclopista, or the rents went up. But it is pretty sad looking at that side of the street. After being in quarantine, it’s good to see my friends who have made it through, so far. There are some people who still have not been able to get back into their country of origin, and I don’t know if the USA will let those of us vaccinated with SinoVac across the border. But here I am prattling on about traffic and changes, and then there are stories on the television that put me to shame. Countries whose population are destitute. Countries with no food, little water, people who cannot get vaccines, who don’t even have homes and they feel grateful that their tent can provide a little shelter. And there are people who live in Mexico, the USA, and yes, even Canada who are similarly deprived. Keep these things in mind while we curse the courses we traverse each day. Victoria Schmidt
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STUFF By Neil McKinnon neilmcki2@gmail.com
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t’s self-evident. Humankind is a mess. Look at our present situation: the environment is deteriorating, our infrastructure is collapsing, injustice is a festering wound in the human soul... and Boris Johnson has lost his comb. Most of our philosophies and religious ideologies have shown themselves as either bankrupt, perverted or impotent. In my lifetime, the angle of the national erection has sagged at least 30 degrees. We have lost our way. Recognizing we are lost is not pleasant. It forces us down a forlorn path— the well-worn lane of whence, why and where. Where do we come from? Why don’t we come from somewhere else? If we came from somewhere else would others come from where we came from or would they also come from somewhere else? Would they wonder where they came from? Would they care where I came from? If they don’t care where I came from, should I care where they come from? If I don’t care where they come from does it matter where I come from?...and why did Janet Jackson’s clothes malfunction at the Super Bowl. Only through in-depth exploration of these and similar questions can we hope to be free of our own and civilization’s tormenting demons. We must transcend our cultural pantheon of religious and philosophical myths. We must take control and then question and requestion... Questions such as: Who am I? Why am I who I am and not someone else? If I were someone else, who would I be? Who would she be? Would she be me? If she were me would she wonder why
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she wasn’t somebody else or why she was me instead of me? Would she wonder why she wasn’t him? Why isn’t toilet paper perforated in Japan? Most human struggles stem from contradictions within us—contradictions placed there by religious mafiosa who gain ascendancy by convincing us our bodies and spirits are a combat zone where God and a rebellious angel replay an unwinnable war through eternity. Other spiritual experts extort behavioral compliance by warning that a life lived improperly will ensure return as a slimy toad on the next iteration. We must follow the right prescripts in order to get into heaven or reach satori. The biggest mistake in both these views is that they see death as a PROMOTION—only by cashing-in can we cash-in. “You’ll spend your whole life in the mailroom, son, but do as I say and, when you pass on, you’ll get the key to that big executive washroom in the sky.” “Yes Father, it’s all I ever wanted—to die and get to pee in the celestial urinal.” Wouldn’t it be wonderfully ironic if birth was the promotion—if the passage from amnion to ether was the last great step on some cosmic organizational ladder? Not only would it mean
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that this is as good as it gets, it would lend credence to the claim made by a group of strange people who dress in green and wear watermelon hats. A claim that states unequivocally that, “even though B.C. may be God’s country, She frequently travels to Saskatchewan to watch football games ...and occasionally goes to North Dakota to play pool.” Throughout history many have created divinities. None of these can be more than they, even if we singularize and capitalize … Divinity! As my Grandpa used to say, “a silk purse made out of a sow’s ear is still just a pig in a poke.” So, the nature of God is not a question. To paraphrase Pogo, “I have seen the Lord and she is us.” If we accept that we create God, and therefore are God, then we must accept that we have opened a whole new conundrum—WHY? When we take control we get to choose, not only the path of inquiry but, if we so desire, a new destination. There are many roads to Rome and by choosing carefully we may be able to avoid the Vatican altogether. So, let’s try. The answer to our question of Why? is simple: Why Not! Or, perhaps the answer to, “Why am I here?” is Because I choose to be. Now... why do I choose to be here? More importantly, why do I choose to be here at this particular time? Being in control is fun—not only can we phrase our own questions, we can add relevant variables. Time is a vast and twisted chain that connects us all. The chain is coiled within and about our world but no link alone is the causal centre. The roots of all things are tied together by time. If we destroy our earth we destroy our heaven. A life with no joy destroys a tree and a hundred joyless lives can darken the firmament. Nothing lives forever in Heaven as it is on Earth. There was once a time before Heaven and Earth, a time before day and night. What was before the sun? Why, there was stuff...and from this stuff the sun was born, and then the earth, and the plants and animals and finally man who created God and heaven. So, the ultimate source is stuff. The connection with time provides clarity. We have never bid adieu to our roots. We choose to be here at this time so we can do stuff. We can spend an aeon searching but we’ll never encounter a living entity who is not busily engaged in doing stuff or planning to do stuff or regretting the stuff he did yesterday. Stuff is second nature to us. We do it spontaneously. It is the essence of every reflex and behind every plot, motive, goal, objective and human desire. But, we are not a bunch of clones. Though we are all rooted in stuff we have our differences. Some do stuff. Others cook stuff. Many buy stuff. There
are even those who send stuff and others who receive it. I once heard a computer whiz say she was programming stuff. A few people strut their stuff and, at the moment, I’m writing stuff. Children are born with an innate knowledge of stuff. Once when I was very young, before I became confused by adults, I was caught playing doctor with a girl from down the road. I distinctly remember the conversation with my parents: “What were you and Ginny up to in the hayloft?” “I dunno, stuff I guess.” “Why didn’t you have any clothes on?” “I dunno. We were just doin’ stuff.” “What kind of stuff?” “I dunno. Just stuff.” Notice there is no ambiguity. With a kid, stuff is stuff—case closed! Kids are all true believers. So what, you say. Of what relevance is stuff to today’s modern fast-paced hectic world? How can stuff preserve and protect us? How can stuff provide the salvation we so desperately crave? Is stuff a panacea ...or is this just the stuff of dreams? We do well to remember that in the baseball game of life, the trick is to have one more relief pitcher. Let’s delay the game and call her out now. Know then that the essence of stuff is to do. This means that when faced with a choice of whether to do stuff or not, we must do it. It’s as simple as that. To say that to do stuff that achieves nothing is to do stuff in vain is too calculating. So long as you choose to do stuff, it does not matter whether you do it in vain. Doing stuff can never be to your discredit. To those who do stuff there are always aesthetics in what they do with their lives. Only doing stuff can continue to preserve our culture. What is culture but the stuff of behavior. It would be impossible to write a history of humanity without taking account of stuff. Remember, all the great figures of history did stuff. Marco Polo did stuff. So did Marie Curie and Wordsworth. Thomas Edison invented stuff and F.W. Woolworth sold stuff. A Haida warrior gave away stuff and Bill Clinton smoked stuff (but he didn’t inhale). If the foregoing seems like stuff and nonsense, or even just a bit stuffy... remember it was written by a stuffed shirt in a stuffy apartment after he had been stuffing his face with stuffed turkey and a whole lot of other stuff. He was also upset because he had made a list of all the stuff he had to do and was in a mood to tell the whole world to stuff it. The End Neil McKinnon
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Ajijic’s first cardiac catheterization! Dr. Sergio Morett, Cardiologist
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s long as technology advances, doctors and hospitals in Ajijic’s area have been trying to improve medical attention by expanding treatment and diagnostic possibilities, diminishing the urgency of looking for medical attention in the big city of Guadalajara. Cardiovascular emergencies can present at any time, so early treatment is vital. Most cardiac emergencies can be treated in hospitals where a cardiac catheterization lab is available, supported by other areas such as an intensive care unit (ICU) and a cardiovascular surgical team. Cardiac catheterization with coronary angiography is a procedure where a small tube, called catheter, is advanced through the radial or femoral artery to the heart, where coronary arteries lie, injecting a dye called contrast media. This procedure can only be performed by expert interventional cardiologists, helping them to visualize inside the arteries and determine if an angioplasty or another treatment is required. During an angioplasty, an interventional cardiologist places coronary stents, which are regularly covered with medication to avoid stent closure. The battery of treatments and proce-
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dures an interventional cardiologist can perform is amazing. We are proud to announce the first cardiac catheterization in Ajijic’s area, performed two months ago by Dr. Sergio Morett, in a patient with resting angina, also known as unstable angina. The procedure was a great success, with immediate relief of symptoms, diminishing the risk of a heart attack. Having the opportunity to treat complex heart diseases in Ajijic, is great news for everybody in the Ribera.“ Dr. Sergio Morett, a professionally trained interventional cardiologist and expert in cardiovascular diseases, CEO of CardioDinamics, dedicated to improve cardiovascular health and prevention. Devoted father and husband, blog writer and technology fan. [Ed. Note: This is the beginning of a medical column devoted to issues faced by people in our age group. We will feature issues, health, and healing. Other doctors, such as Dr, Morrett’s wife will contribute to issues in her specialty Gastroenterology. This is for informational purposes. As always ask your own doctor for your specific concerns, This is NOT an advertisement for services.]
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How I Became A Cartoonist Sydney Gay googlesydney@yahoo.com
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am an artist who paints what makes me laugh and what inspires me began in New York City where I worked in a medical center treating injured patients in serious pain. Not a laughing matter. However, one evening at a doctor’s party I met a wild sexy Jewish musician from Vienna Austria, He had been a child prodigy playing Bach and Beethoven and by age 8 was introduced to Carnegie Hall. More amazing than this he was blind and could not read musical notes. He needed a work partner, someone to become his eyes which were destroyed the day Hitler marched
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into Vienna. I’ll explain briefly. His mother fled the hospital hiding her baby under a doll blanket inside a flimsy toy carriage that belonged to his six-yearold sister; thumping over the cobble stoned streets rattled his tiny head and the retinas of his eyes detached. Blind or not he grew into a brilliant adult and I fell in love, he didn’t love me as much as I loved him. Nevertheless we got married. Our honeymoon began in Vienna; where papers had
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to be signed to re-establish ownership of the home Hitler confiscated from his family, after which we took a train to Mauthausen to examine the gas chambers which had destroyed so many friends and family. I cannot explain how that felt. The two of us became quietly numb, unable to express feelings. For relief we went to Switzerland, a country that refuses to partake in war. In Zurich my husband decides he wants to climb the Matterhorn. This is the first cartoon of my married life. I am from Louisiana. I have never seen a mountain higher than an ant hill and I didn’t know muscle training is needed to mountain climb. The Matterhorn is one of the deadliest peaks within the Alps, there is a lot of snow and ice and it takes us many hours to reach base camp. As we approach the base my husband is the first to hear a helicopter. I look up, the copter is hovering over a four-thousand-foot straight wall peak attempting to rescue two frozen dead bodies. We turn around and climb down, the pain in my body, head to toe, screams so loudly I have to be packed in ice. The next stop is Amsterdam where it is legal to smoke marijuana. After quite a bit of smoking my husband gets a musical idea that takes flight. When we return to New York he receives permission to bring neverbefore-heard-of multi-media productions into Carnegie Hall. The concerts sell out earning enough money for us to buy a chicken farm in Connecticut. The year is 1969. Many artists come to visit the farm, one of them a man who looks exactly like Eddie Murphy but claims to be Finniest T Quatlabaum. He has a sketch book, his drawings are wonderful, “Oh, Mr. Quatlabaum, I wish I could draw the way you do.” And he says to me “anyone can do it, let me show you how.” Finniest put a bunch of colored pencils into my fist, “Hold all of them tightly together, don’t think about anything, just let them make whatev-
er shapes they want to on the paper.” I squiggle the pencils up and down and all around, nothing appears but lines and circles. He says, “Keep doing it.” Weeks go by and a professor from Harvard comes to our farm telling my husband and me we will not know what life really is until we try LSD. He gives us tiny squares of paper to put under our tongues. Within 30 minutes my world explodes into color, every sound has a color, cartoons pop out of the clouds, trees are playing Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. It is a glorious day. That night I sit down with my fist full of pencils and cartoons suddenly appear. Gradually my confidence grows from notebook size images into large paintings. A few months later a lady professor from Duke University, who I had not met before, comes to the farm with four business friends looking for a safe place to try LSD. They get high, take off all their clothes and spread themselves naked on my living room floor. Not knowing what to do with all those arms and legs, I went outside and started to pray, Dear God, please show me the way to live without this drug. As they say God works in strange ways. I divorced my husband and began seeing the many tragedies of life as cartoons. I am not making fun of tragedy, but a Godly spirit was showing me happiness inside the sorrow. One day, just for the fun of it, I hung two cartoons in a medical center bathroom; a girl dancing with a dog above the toilet for men to see when they pee and on the opposite wall a cat eating watermelon for women who sit down to pee. Injured patients in terrible pain began staying in the bathroom a bit longer than usual. When they came out most of them were smiling. Sydney Gay
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A Different Name
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was born with a name my mother found in a Greek mythology book, or so I was told. Katina is a common nickname for Katherine in Greece. I know because when I was in Greece, everyone thought I was Greek. Many boats had my name painted in bold letters on their backs. When I was in fourth grade I moved to a new school and the teacher asked me to introduce myself. I said my name clearly. A smart aleck boy in the back of the class pretended he heard my name wrong and clarified loudly, “CHIQUITA?!” The class roared with laughter. I calmly clarified, “No, my name is Tina.” I went by Tina until I started my life anew in college many years later and reverted to Katina. My family name was the English surname Cox. I was happy with my last name until a group of guys at a bar in college called me over and had fun asking me to spell my last name. I tilted my head in incomprehension that they couldn’t spell a three-letter name, until it occurred to me there was another phonetic spelling which was a male sex organ. I was mortified! Years passed and I was going to get
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married. I informed my fiancé that I’d prefer to keep my birth name and gave many reasons why this was my desire. I had a career and had established what one would now call my “brand,” establishing my work reputation. Plus I was feminist in my thinking. The traditional assumption of the husband’s name made me feel like chattel. He was so dismayed and carried on in such tragic grief that I relented and changed my name to his. Greek last name. It actually sounded pretty with my Greek first name, so I moved on. I had a son and gave him a traditional Greek first name, so he sounded like he was a real Greek too. Life went on, I divorced, and several years later I was preparing to remarry my present husband. The name issue came up again. I was adamant I wasn’t going to do the whole name thing again. My then fiancé held traditional views. I stressed that I didn’t want to have to send out name change correspondence at work, and that my son and I shared last names. He wasn’t swayed. One day while driving with my son, he informed my fiancé he had only one request if we were to become a family. My husband thought this sounded simple and asked what it was. “There are two of us with our last name, and only one of you. Will you take our last name, and we will all have the same last name?” My husband stammered with the logic from this young boy’s mind. He reluctantly agreed that I would keep my last name. I was really proud of my son’s argument, and he saved me a boatload of administrative tasks required when one changes their name. I kept my name and I remain myself. Names hold meaning. Katina Pontikes
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Compassionate Medicine David Dennis
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don’t consider myself a hypochondriac; I don’t diagnose myself with COVID or cancer when I get the sniffles or a belly ache. However, when a vice grip grabbed my heart and shot ripples of pain into my ears, I became worried. At seventy-one, I expect to encounter more physical limitations and ailments, but unlike a beat-up old vehicle, I can’t trade my body in for a newer model. I began this medical journey by pretending that nothing was wrong —classic denial. When the second episode hit a week later—I chalked it off to indigestion or acid reflux (which I don’t have). Finally, when
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episode three hit, I fessed up to my wife and a few friends. Most of them used the words like “idiot” for not going into the doctor after number one - though I must admit, there was compassion and love alongside this harsh but accurate assessment. So off to my trusted general practitioner I went. He said there may be nothing serious to worry about, but priority number one is to rule out the serious possibilities. He dialed up the cardiologist who had evaluated my heart prior to my prostate surgery six years earlier, and I had a next-day appointment to begin the evaluation process. The cardiologist agreed with my
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family doctor and scheduled me for an angioplasty two days later at an excellent Guadalajara hospital. As I left his office that Saturday afternoon, he gave me a very stern order. “Should another episode occur before Monday,” he said, “call the surgeon I referred you to on his cell phone and he will perform the procedure immediately.” At 7:30 am Monday morning, we climbed into the car of our driver, who navigated rush-hour traffic in Guadalajara and got us to the hospital in one piece. I had no fear of the procedure because I’d done my homework and was reassured of our surgeon’s excellent credentials and experience. I had plenty of fear, however, about what all this might mean to my future well-being. After completing a COVID test and a plethora of hospital paperwork, I donned one of those lovely hospital gowns and lay down on a gurney with an IV in my arm. The surgeon appeared and spent all the time I needed to hear about the procedure and ask my many questions. When I told him I wanted to be fully anesthetized, he let out a kind laugh and said, “We don’t do that here because I need you awake to hold your breath and breathe shallowly when I remove the catheter.” As it turns out, I am glad I was fully awake. The operating room had an amazing array of sophisticated instruments and blinking lights. After scrubbing my right arm with an ugly orange antiseptic, the doctor brought out a syringe to deaden the area around the targeted vein in my wrist. He said it would be the most painful part of the procedure, but he promised it would be no worse than a dentist’s Novocain shot. After ten seconds of jabbing, the doctor asked, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I responded with, “You’re fired.” We both laughed as he cut the vein and inserted the catheter. He talked me through every step
of the 20-minute procedure. I felt slight pain as the catheter worked its way up my arm. As it closed in on the heart, a flush of liquid was released that produced an odd sensation—I presume it was the dye that would allow the imaging system to identify blockages and a host of other problems that might be present. A large rectangular gizmo hovered about three feet above my heart. It moved from side to side and back and forth at various angles and sent a signal to the TV monitor alongside my bed. And there it was, live and in color —a real-time view of my beating heart and its surrounding, pulsing arteries. After a short amount of time—short enough so my fears didn’t turn into abject terror—the doctor announced to his team, and me, that he didn’t need to do anything. My worst occlusion was only 20%—an excellent outcome, he said, for a seventy-one year old. I did not need a stent because they are only used when the occlusion levels are above 70%. So what was the problem? He showed me a relatively minor artery on the screen that was partially blanketed by a muscle. This could be the reason for my episodes because it can cause a painful constriction from time to time. He assured me it was not at all serious —and more importantly, it was neither dangerous nor potentially fatal. And better yet, based on the 25 diagnostic components that the angioplasty evaluated, my probability of a heart attack in the next five years approaches zero. All I need to do is take prescribed medication for three months and reduce my intake of coffee (painful, but doable). I’m a happy man. I hope I never have to visit a cardiac surgeon again, but if I do, he’s the guy. He demonstrated to me the very definition of compassionate medicine.
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COLUMNIST
Verdant View By Francisco Nava
Heirloom vs. Hybrid vs. GMO
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he terms “hybrid,”“heirloom,” and “genetically modified organisms (GMO)” are used regularly, especially when it comes to the vegetable garden, but these terms also can be confusing. The terms refer to how the plants are reproduced, whether by simple seed saving, by cross-pollinating two different species, or by introducing foreign genes (GMO). Heirlooms are plants that have been reproducing over time, hybrids are crossed plants that are often created to exhibit beneficial traits, such as increase disease-resistance or higher yields and GMOs are still controversial as to whether they are beneficial to the natural environment. It is hard to know if the seeds you choose are hybrid seeds or genetically modified, unless labeled. Heirloom seeds are usually labeled so. The term heirloom vegetable is used to describe any type of vegetable seed that has been saved and grown for a period of years and is passed down by the gardener that preserved it. To be capable of being saved, all heirloom seed must be open-pollinated, so that it will grow true to the seed. Just like a family heirloom, these seeds’ characteristics are passed down from plant generation to generation and many can be traced back hundreds of years. The big benefit of using heirloom seeds is that you can collect seeds from your plant at the end of the season and when you plant them,
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they will grow the exact same plant as the “parent”. Open-pollinated plants are simply varieties that are capable of producing seeds that will produce seedlings just like the parent plant. Hybrid plants and GMO plants do not do this. Plant breeders crossbreed compatible types of plants in an effort to create a plant with the best features of both parents. These are called hybrid plants and many of the modern plants are the results of these crosses. Seed from these hybrids will not produce plants with identical qualities. Hybrids should not be confused with genetically modified organisms or GMOs, which can be any plant, animal, or microorganism that has been genetically altered using molecular genetics techniques such as gene cloning and protein engineering. There are both pros and cons to GMOs. August Weather is still warm and rainy. You will see in the viveros marigolds, zinnias, cosmos, sunflowers, phlox, cleome and kniphofia (red hot poker). You can still plant hot weather veggies as it won’t be cold until late October and most take 60 to 90 days to mature. Start asparagus seeds in individual containers for ease in later transplanting. You can plant artichokes, both Globe and Jerusalem anytime from July to November. Do plant celosia, snapdragon, phlox, petunia and stock seeds now. Last chance to prune your poinsettias for Christmas bloom. Keep up with weeds, fertilizer and pest control and deadheading. Cut back your herbs. They’ll just keep growing. Freeze or dry what herbs you don’t use. Look for whatever veggie seeds you will be starting in September. Your gardening friends are excellent sources of seeds and cuttings. Put garden clippings and non-oily, non-meat kitchen waste into the compost pile. The garden pests are out in full force so keep an eye out for them and deal with these problems at once, before they get out of hand. Francisco Nava
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COLUMNIST
PROFILING TEPEHUA By Moonyeen King President of the Board for Tepehua
moonie1935@yahoo.com
he difference between want and need is not very vast but it is clear... to need is life sustaining whereas to want are those extra things in life to sweeten our pot. It has been a long time since most of us reading the Ojo only had what we need. Incredibly all over the world there are more people who need than want. The World Bank states that 3.4 billion people still struggle to make ends meet for only their needs, and according to W.H.O the numbers have been growing since 2015. Poverty is getting worse on our planet instead of better. Life is not fair. The cards dealt are out of our control...but as the man says ‘it is how you play the game’. Stick with the cards dealt or change them. We at the Tepehua Center believe that you can change the hand dealt if you work together. We have changed many things for the Barrio, except a very private space for man’s very basic need, elimination of our waste. Countless people in poverty still have to use the primitive method of open defecation, pollution of the nest and our planet, pollution of our surface waters and wells, our streams, the very essence of our lives. Our water. This must change. In the part of our world that is perfect, when we plan our home, an automatic part of the design is a bathroom around which all our needs are secondary, and we add the wants as we go along. In the imperfect world of poverty, we build the needs first... the roof above our head, protection from the elements, the walls for security from the darker elements of human nature and a door to secure us inside. That is the primary need. Slowly the other needs are added beds, pots and pans, blankets, perhaps a stove later as a want and the last want, which is a luxury item due to the cost, is a bathroom. No plumbing is installed. Just the toilet itself is a month’s wage, and to at-
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tach to a sewer changes the want into a dream. This is the face of poverty and we have done nothing to change it since the first toilets were invented by the Greeks 6,000 years ago. Tepehua Community Center will change the face of poverty just a little more each year. This year is dedicated to bringing the luxury of the latrine to Tepehua. Ironically nearly every shack has a TV, a luxury item easily attainable on the second hand market, dumping grounds are full of them along with old computers, and if anything is fixable, people of the barrios will fix them. All these luxury items you see in the incongruous setting of a shack come from the throw-away upper class who are forever changing out their wants for newer models. It is not the poor spending their very hard-earned money on luxuries first. Their treasures are your trash. We can make this transition from open defecation to home privacy with your help. No matter how small the bathroom item you are changing out, please donate it to Tepehua Community Center. All small items can be dropped off at the Tepehua Treasures store, or we can pick up the larger items if you e-mail moonie1935@yahoo.com. No trash please, if it leaks let it R.I.P in the land fill. Please also leave your email with the item so we can keep you posted on the change you will be making for the children of tomorrow. Every day, in spite of looking into the face of poverty in others, it shouldn’t stop one from enjoying the wants you have attained through life, and appreciate the hand you were dealt, this author does. But it really sweetens your own pot when you know you have contributed something for the basic needs of others. If it can be done in one of the biggest barrios Lake Side like Tepehua with over 7,000 people, it can be done anywhere.
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COLUMNIST
If Our Pets Could Talk By Jackie Kellum
J
ust saying, I Love You! to your pet means a lot, but it also causes a physical reaction within your pet. A UK vacation rental company called “Canine Cottages” conducted a study on dog behavior interactions with their owner. They said that the results of their study were both surprising, heartwarming, and in some cases, unexpected. They placed cardiac monitors on the dogs to record their heart rate during various owner interactions. These are some of those study results. The most unexpected finding was the extent to which canines reacted to hearing their owners say: ‘I love you’. These words caused the biggest physical reaction in the dogs. The researchers had expected that when the dogs heard their owners come home that would have a larger heart rate response. When
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they were reunited with their owners after a short separation, there was only a ten percent increase. In contrast, the dogs’ heart rates increased on average 46 percent when their owners offered words of affection. This surprising statistic demonstrates how much words of love from their owner means to a dog. These findings show that dogs clearly have a good understanding of what their human is saying and when their owner is saying something positive and affectionate. Another interesting finding from this study was that some scenarios could decrease a dog’s heart rate.
El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
For example, when their owner cuddled their dog, their heart rate decreased by an average of 22 percent. It is an indication that dogs find cuddling with their owner was a calming and relaxing experience. Now that it is proven that cuddling has a calming effect, dog owners can use it as a strategy to calm their dog if it is feeling anxious, stressed, or over-excited. The owners’ voice tone when speaking also has an impact. Results of this study showed there was a bigger increase in the dogs’ heart rates when their human used a high-pitched tone or talked to them like humans talk to babies. On the other hand, the effect was less when the same words were spoken using a low-pitched tone. Many studies have shown that when dogs and humans spend time together, both have physical and emotional well-being benefits. However, cats also serve as support therapeutic pets as well. Each species has its own pros and cons—pet size, house size, requires walk or not, need for attention vs. being more reserved, activity level, toilet needs, food consumption, cost, etc.. One website describing the benefits of cat ownership listed several
specific reasons, including: “The stereotype that dogs are more affectionate than cats is just that, a stereotype. In fact it turns out that cats can be just as good a companion as a dog, especially for women”, and “Your choice of pet reveals something about your personality. While dog lovers tend to be ‘life of the party’; cat owners are quieter and more introverted. However, they score very highly when it comes to how trustworthy they are and how much they trust other people. Cat owners are also less manipulative and more modest”. I have both cats and dogs, so I do not lean in any one particular direction about this appraisal. You need to form you own opinion. A fact of life—we may not outlive our pets. We have an obligation to have plans in place for their care if we become unable to care for them and when we die. Show your pet you love them, do not be in denial or procrastinate. If you love your pet, you need to take care of this plan now while you can… do not leave it to others to take on this difficult task for you . Jackie Kellum
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Word Salad By Sally Asante
Signs you’re aging...in case you hadn’t noticed
This is the last installment of Sally Asante’s Collection of Word Salad. Thank you Sally!
A
ging insights as told by humorists:
1. I don’t feel old. In fact, I don’t feel anything until noon. Then it’s time for my nap.—Bob Hope 2. After seventy, you still chase women, but only downhill.—Bob Hope 3. Youth is wonderful. It’s a shame to waste it on the young.—Mark Twain 4. You can’t reach old age by another man’s road. My habits protect my life, but they would assassinate you.—Mark Twain 5. Age is strictly a case of mind over
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matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.—Jack Benny 6. Except for an occasional heart attack, I feel as young as I ever did.— Robert Benchley 7. Last night I had a typical cholesterol-free dinner: baked squash, skimmed milk, and gelatin. I’m sure this will not make me live any longer, but I know it’s going to seem longer.—Groucho Marx 8. Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough.— Groucho Marx 9. I care about our young people, and I wish them great success, because they are our Hope for the Future, and someday, when my generation retires, they will have to pay us trillions of dollars in social security.— Dave Barry 10. I recently had my annual physical examination, which I get once every seven years, and when the nurse weighed me, I was shocked to discover how much stronger the Earth’s gravitational pull has become since 1990.—Dave Barry 11. I stay away from natural foods. At my age, I need all the preservatives I can get.—George Burns 12. If you live to be one hundred, you’ve got it made. Very few people
die past that age.—George Burns 13. I don’t plan to grow old gracefully. I plan to have facelifts until my ears meet.—Rita Rudner 14. Always be nice to your children because they are the ones who will choose your rest home.—Phyllis Diller 15. Looking fifty is great—if you’re sixty.—Joan Rivers 16. You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.— Woody Allen 17. All my life I wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific.—Lily Tomlin 18. Don’t go to a school reunion. There’ll be a lot of old people there claiming to be your classmates.—Tom Dreesen 19. Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.—Jim Fiebig 20. In a survey for Modern Maturity magazine, men over seventy-five said they had sex once a week. Which proves that old guys lie about sex too.—Irv Gilman 21. Few things are more satisfying than seeing your children have teenagers of their own.—Doug Larson And just in case you still aren’t sure, you know you’re growing old when . . . 1. You see a pretty young girl and wonder what her mother looks like. 2. The pretty girl you smile at thinks you are one of her father’s friends. And she helpfully opens the door for you. 3. When you whistle at a pretty girl, she thinks you’re calling her dog. 4. All your dreams about girls are reruns. 5. The little gray-haired lady you help across the street is your wife. 6. When you see a pretty girl, your pacemaker makes the garage door open. 7. When you have a choice of temptations, you choose the one that gets you home earlier. 8. Dinner and a movie are the whole date, not just the start of one. 9. You’re getting better in bed. You can sleep there for days. 10. Your wife tells you she’s having an affair, and you ask if she’s having it catered. 11. Your sweetie says, “Let’s go upstairs and make love,” and you answer, “Pick one. I can’t do both.” 12. Your sweetie says, “Would you like some super sex?” and you say, “I’ll take the soup.” (Reprinted with permission.) Sally Asante
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COLUMNIST
Our Lady (The Virgin) of Guadalupe By David Ellison
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he is “La Morenita,” the brown lady. According to Catholic lore, the Virgin Mary first appeared to a peasant in the small town of Guadalupe, Spain, in 1325 AD. She confided to him the location of a long-lost statue, unique in that it portrayed her with a dark face. In 1531, Mary appeared again on a hill called Tepeyac just outside of Mexico City, this time to a Native named Juan Diego. Speaking to him in his native language, Nahuatl (Aztec), Mary asked him to instruct the bishop to build a church on the spot in her honor. The bishop disbelieved him, and demanded proof, some sort of divine sign. Juan Diego returned to the bishop carrying roses Mary had given him which he’d protected in his cloak. When he let the roses tumble out, he revealed a miraculous image on the clock—the one featured on this page, replicated throughout Mexico and, in fact, the world. Significantly, her face was once again dark, that of a Native. The bishop built a chapel to Mary, which is now a large, beautiful basilica. Perhaps not coincidentally, a shrine to a venerated Native goddess, Tonantzin, had been located on the very-same site—a fact that initially worried some clergy. Just whom would the Natives be worshiping? But the image of a brown-skinned Mother Mary proved crucial in their efforts to convert Natives to Catholicism. Mexican revolutionaries Hidalgo, Morelos, and Zapata used the icon of Our Lady of Guadalupe as well—
to lead their predominantly Native troops into battle. More recently, the Catholic Church declared Juan Diego a saint, and Our Lady to be Patroness of the Americas, Empress of Latin America, and Protectress of Unborn Children. The Philippines made her its patron saint, too. Our Lady’s significance in Mexican culture cannot be overstated. Author Judy King explained, “The Virgin of Guadalupe is the rubber band that binds this disparate nation into a whole.” Indeed, Mexican novelist Carlos Fuentes insisted, “You cannot truly be considered a Mexican unless you believe in the Virgin of Guadalupe.” Scholar Jeanette Rodriguez emphasized Our Lady’s radical influence on Catholic faith: “God always chooses the people the world rejects [such as peasants and Natives, the poor and people of color]. The Lady of Guadalupe...offered a different brand of faith. She didn’t say, go to church or say the rosary. She said ‘If you love me, trust me and believe in me, I will respond.’” Our Lady of Guadalupe’s basilica at Tepeyac, Mexico City, housing Juan Diego’s cloak bearing Mary’s image, has become the most-visited Catholic pilgrimage site in the world. This is a selection from David Ellison’s book-in-progress, Niños Héroes: The Fascinating Stories Behind Mexican Street Names.
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The Magic Of Lakeside
Beyond the Razzle-Dazzle By Don Beaudreau wbeaudreau@aol.com
T
he early morning was alive with the dancing of clouds and the greening of hills. The rainy season had come to Lakeside! How wonderful! How vibrant! The rain stopped for the moment, so I took advantage of this to do errands with my car. I just turned onto the carretera when I saw that other Lakesiders decided to be active, too. But not all of them were in vehicles. Some were walking, jogging, or cycling on the bike path that runs alongside our main road. Babies in strollers were pushed while puppies on leashes were pulled. Young lovers strolled hand-in-hand while oldsters shuffled with canes-in-hand. It was an image that symbolized the
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diversity of our Lakeside community, an ordinary moment to experience at Lakeside these days. We can give thanks to the newand-improved ciclopista, a gift from the state of Jalisco. But this gift represents more than just an ordinary reality. It adds another element of magic to our community: providing us with a means to connect to others. It brings us together without our having to pay a yearly membership fee; pass a test; recite a creed; sing a song; or audition for a play. Indeed, our ciclopista is a muchawaited and much-appreciated gift for many of us. As a distance runner for 60 years who became more and more competitive as I got older, I am thrilled by this gift! I know that it can provide not only a sense of increased community, but also give the individual some time to be away from the responsibilities and expectations of others. So even in my passing car on that cloudy day, I felt connected to all who were moving along that particular path. It was an ecstatic experience for me, one that lifted me out of my sense of self, and connected me to those on that path. In addition, I felt something I felt before, during my many years of running: that I am part of something larger, but then so is everyone else— as is every aspect of nature.
El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
I know that when I run I feel connected to the unifying principle of creation. I am part of the universe and therefore am timeless, without boundaries. And so are you! And all of nature. We are star stuff and will be so again. The exquisite things I have witnessed while running have taught me that we are one with each other and with all nature; we are connected and interdependent. I have felt this unifying principle when I have run with deer in the spring forests of West Virginia, snakes in the summer grass of Florida, mongrel dogs in the wintry streets of Persia, sea otters on the beaches by the autumnal bays of California. I have moved through morning mists around the parapets of Granada’s Alhambra Palace and through the warming desert air of dawn over the old sector of Jerusalem’s dusty streets. I have communed with ancient rulers and prophets—companion ghosts encircling me, those “Great Companions” spoken of by Whitman. My feet have raced over the frozen sidewalks of Broadway by night, the steamy mid-day streets of New Orleans’ Vieux Carre, the rocky ledges of a secluded Aegean seaport at sunset, the springtime greenery of London’s Hampstead Heath. I have run across San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, up Honolulu’s Diamondhead, along Chicago’s Lake Michigan, around Washington’s National Monument, along the snow-capped peaks of Colorado’s Rockies, through the bustling noonday streets of a reconstructing East Berlin. I have dodged cars, trucks, busses, scooters, roller blades, even trains. I have avoided colliding with babies on beaches, adolescent lovers on sidewalks, oldsters on canes. I have had a few nasty falls, and have the scars to prove it. Despite these challenges and others, I have survived and learned a few lessons. I know that running is not just a physical thing for me. It is my meditation. It is a “running” meditation, rather than a “walking” one spoken of by the Eastern mystics. I guess some of us need to meditate faster than others! One other thing about my running as a spiritual discipline is that I choose to run alone, although I am not really alone: I observe other people going about their daily tasks. Sometimes they wave at me; sometimes I wave back. In my mind, I connect with people I have known or currently know: the ones I care for the most, and the ones who fill me with anger or sadness or frustration. In this regard, I often take my troubles on the road, and the road becomes my therapist. I talk out my problems—with my feet. So, a large retinue of humanity accompanies me
on my journey; and sometimes nonhuman animals. My companions include the ones I know; and the ones I meet through audio books or the radio. And oh that hodgepodge of confused thoughts that travel the open road with me! Sometimes they gain clarity when I run. While running, I have written doctoral dissertations in my head and novels; learned obscure languages and created new ones; figured out the meaning of life; devised a plan to eliminate world debt; solved the mystery of the Holy Grail; discovered the fate of Amelia Earhart; and located the whereabouts of the remaining Dead Sea Scrolls. I have accomplished these things and more when I run. Yes, when I run, a metamorphosis occurs within me. I feel pure, light— so charged by breath that like the title of that novel, my whole being shudders with the terrible lightness of being. I know I never shall be the great athlete of whom the poet A. E. Houseman speaks. No one shall ever chair me “through the market-place” with all “cheering by” nor bring me “shoulderhigh” nor place a “garland briefer than a girl’s” on this increasingly balding head of mine. I never will achieve such accolades. I trust I only run to find myself—the deeper me, the one that so easily gets lost in the razzle dazzle of a materialistic existence. I run to rediscover that kid in me who once experienced life as play, who looked up into those cavorting clouds and witnessed angels dancing! I run and become alive again, and feel at times—even during the physical stress of the run—that I am one with all creation. And then there is joy far beyond what material existence can give me. It is at that moment that I exist at the very edge of the universe, and glimpse the light from distant stars that beckon to me from an existence I am yet to know. It is then that I resonate with Walt Whitman’s “Open Road” and discover that life is: To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls. ***** So you see our Lakeside ciclopista is more than just a way to get from one place to another. It is a bit of magic alongside the shores of our ancient lake that provides a way to deeper connection with today’s Lakeside community, but also invokes the spirits of those we knew and the spirits of those ancient people who once walked these hills, and swam in this lake. Lakeside! A magical place, indeed!
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Carol D. Bradley
Lake Chapala Society is offering two Concerts in the Park in August: See the following posters for details:
Email: cdbradleymex@gmail.com Phone: 33-2506-7525 “ We thank the people who make us happy, they are the lovely gardeners who make our soul blossom. “ Marcel Proust 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. 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. Open Circle Talks for August: At Press Time, Open Circle have not confirmed content for their August presentations. Please check with Open Circle’s website (opencircleajijic.org) for added information and updates. Here are presenter’s names and dates: August 1 Bea Gallagher August 8 Dr. Kelly Bennett August 15 Ellen Sharp August 22 Hartwig Stein August 29 Livier Ayon Lake Chapala Society is offering an important class: Mexican Banknotes and coins, counterfeit and more. Description: Through this workshop on Banknotes and Coins in Mexico, we will seek to know in detail and in a practical way the range of currency circulating in the country. We will inform about the denominations, designs and the changes that periodically occur in them. We will focus especially on the design and security features of each bill, in order to learn to become familiar with them, and thus make it easier to recognize whether a bill is valid or counterfeit. Instructors: Jorge Luis Silva Course Fee: $100 pesos Course Dates: Aug 16, 2021 Course Time: Monday, 12:00 to 1:00 pm Course Location: Ken Gosh Pavillion Min/Max Students required: 6/15 Note: These programs are limited to LCS members only. Membership must be active to enroll and must remain active for the duration of each class.
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Lakeside Little Theatre: Ajijic Readers Theatre (ART) - Performance MATCH, by Stephen Belber, directed by Harry McFadden – Dramatic Comedy Show Dates: August 20, 21, 22, 2021, 4:00 pm, Angel Terrace, limited, spaced seating. Tickets 150 pesos, available online at www.lakesidelittletheatre. com, Wednesday and Thursday during the week before opening, or at the Box Office one hour before the show. Tobi, inspired by Alphonse Poulin, a professor of ballet at Juilliard School, is an aging dancer, choreographer and teacher who enjoys knitting. His quiet life is interrupted when Mike and Lisa enter his home under the pretense of interviewing him for Lisa’s thesis. Notice: Strong language, adult content Lakeside Little Theatre: Season 57 MainStage - Auditions THE MADRES, by Stephanie Alison Walker, directed by Dave McIntosh Auditions: Thursday & Friday, September 2nd & 3rd, 2021, 10:00 am (Registration 9:30) at LLT Show Dates: November 5 - 14, 2021 At its core, The Madres is about the strength and resilience of women. We get a glimpse inside one Argentinian home touched by the brutality of the regime in the late 70’s. Powerful, heartbreaking, tragically real. The show needs 2 men and 3 women. Email Dave at auditionsMS@lakesidelittletheatre.com for scripts and more information. el gato feo café & roastery is back in business! They are in a new location (just down from Lake Chapala Society) Amanda and her crew love writers! They will be hosting local author’s published readings again, starting on August 4th at 4PM. There will be three readers and they will have books to sign for you to buy.
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August 4th authors are: Mel Goldberg Juan Sacclli And featured author Zofia Barisas Come and enjoy the new ambiance, live music and, of course the coffees and treats of el gato feo. The readings will be held in the sala of the Estrella B&B, on ground level. Contact Carol Bradley at cdbradleymex@gmail.com for more information. SCRABBLE COMES TO LAKESIDE! The inaugural meeting of Chapala Scrabblers was held at the American Legion on July 19th. Helen Frankenthal is the organizer and is on Facebook at Chapala Scrabblers. Like her page for the next meetings and updates. Good luck with this fabulous endeavour Helen! CALLING ALL WRITERS! The Ajijic Writers Group has reconvened after more than a year away due to Covid. The group has been meeting for over 30 years.
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They meet in the beautiful garden with a view of Lake Chapala at La Nueva Posada: Donato Guerra 9, 45920 Ajijic, Jal. Come and enjoy the readings, read your original work in progress and stay for lunch in the lovely setting. The Group is open to all writers, regardless of skill level. A pre-sign-up is required for readings. Feedback will be given for all of us to become better writers. Contact VictoriaASchmidt@gmail.com to get on the email list for all things Ajijic Writers Group.
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Just One More Temple, Papa By Carol L. Bowman
Part Two
(Part One published in April 2021 issue)
H
ak and Chan waited in the lobby, fresh as morning lotus flowers. Hak asked, with his pervasive cheerfulness, “Did you have a good rest, Papa and Mama?” I smiled at Hak’s, now familiar, reference to us as his parents. “Our first stop, Banteay Srei, is 30 kilometers away, so we should get started.” I recounted our last night’s romp through the streets of Siem Reap to Hak while Chan drove the tuk-tuk. Upon yesterday’s return, I headed to the hotel’s spa for a one-hour foot reflexology massage. The unbelievable price of $12 rejuvenated me to an even higher state of relaxation. The beautiful, young masseuse and her skillful hands erased my ‘temple fatigue.’ Invigorated, I coaxed Ernie. “Let’s see what Siem Reap has to offer at night.” The evening’s lower humidity greeted us as we picked our way along the uneven and broken sidewalk. The roadside, littered with cans, bottles, and exposed cables waited to trip the unprepared tourist. Onward to the Old French Quarter, we trudged over the bridge which spans the polluted, foul smelling city river. Locals swarmed The Old Market, Phsar Chas, making last-minute purchases of strings of pork sausages, dried fish that hung from the rafters, rice, and greens. Without refrigeration in their homes,
food shopping remains a daily chore. On our way to Pub Street, where Cambodian delicacies sizzled in chic, two-story, open air restaurants, fish pedicures grabbed our attention. Rows of long, clear tanks, teeming with toothless, Red Garra (doctor fish), advertised, “Feed our hungry fish with your dead skin. No piranhas!” For $3.00, takers got a cold beer or coke, plus twenty minutes of feisty fish munching the dead skin off their bare feet that dangled in the tank. I just couldn’t do it. At the ‘night market’ local teenagers encouraged us to try tasty Cambodian treats of fried tarantulas, scorpions, and spiders. I shrieked at the sight of these creepy crawlers... I wasn’t about to eat them. Fried ice cream, made with bananas, chocolate chips, and cream scraped together until solid on a frozen pan, seemed more palatable. We arrived at the oldest and most remote temple in the Archaeological Zone. Banteay Srei, called the Citadel of Women, is believed to have been built in 967 by female laborers. Pink hues radiated from red sandstone block walls and intricate carvings, considered the finest and best preserved of all Angkor Wat monuments, dazzled onlookers. On our tuk-tuk ride back to Siem Reap, we stopped at two jewels; Ta Som and Preah Khan, both revealing exotic jungle atmospheres, leaning structures
encased by banyan tree roots, and largely ignored by tourists. No hordes or busloads at Ta Som; just Hak, me and Papa. The early morning calls of jungle birds, the audible snaps of crackling twigs underfoot, and towering trees sheltering us from the sun’s harsh rays left me speechless. Preah Khan Temple, built in honor of Jayavarman VII’s father in 1191, supported more than 100,000 commonplace people who lived there and serviced an early hospital on site. As I headed for our fringed dray, a young lad pursued me with trinkets for sale. Cambodian Mafia extorts children to harass tourists to buy souvenirs, so to discourage this practice, I ignored his pleas. In my haste getting into the cart, a rusty bolt jutting out stabbed into my shin bone. Blood spurted down my leg. Ernie quickly tied his sweaty bandana above the wound as a tourniquet. Chan turned pale and Hak cried out, “Oh, no, Mama.” From under the cart’s seat Chan removed a dusty roll of gauze and tended my leg with each wrap-around of the dirty bandage. Between the sweaty neckerchief and grey-looking gauze, the bleeding slowed. I worried ‘Has it been ten or twenty years since my last tetanus shot?’ With my leg begging for less activity, we made a deal with Hak. No more temples. We wanted to experience a boat ride on Tonle Sap, the largest freshwater lake in Southeast Asia, known for supporting clusters of floating villages. Thousands of Cambodians remain completely dependent on this ecosystem. Hak agreed, but cautioned that we only had time to drive to Chong Khneas, the most visited site, and the least authentic, which exhibited widespread pollution, overharvesting of fish, and depletion of important mangrove swamps. After considering the drawbacks, we still wanted a glimpse. Tonle Sap connects to the complex Mekong River system, and in the rainy season its volume increases five-fold. The flow re-
verses with the flood waters backing up from the Mekong. Once Hak procured our boat and driver, the sights, sounds and smells of Chong Khneas captured the moment. The muddy-colored lake, with plastic trash bobbing on top looked uninviting. Two naked children in a dug-out canoe near their floating-barge home jumped happily into the water, oblivious to its pollution. As we sped along, make-shift residences, schools, churches, grocery stores, a basketball court, even a crocodile farm, all rocked back and forth, from tourist motorboat waves that lapped into the mangrove swamps. Each floating structure had dilapidated rubber tires attached to its perimeter at water’s level. A young boy guided his small boat to the school’s wharf, a group of head-scarfed, chatty women, moored alongside the church, and an old woman in a dug-out filled with caldrons of steaming rice and fried fish rowed her traveling restaurant along. Huge nets filled with crushed aluminum cans and plastic bottles hung from the sides of many homes, while others threw trash directly into their liquid garbage dump. Hak reminded us that the fish from this lake provide the largest portion of Cambodia’s food supply. I made a mental note to never order fresh fish from any local menu. People bathed, washed clothes, and played in this water. What about the ‘unseen,’ I thought. What about human waste disposal; what about disease and illnesses brought by lack of sanitation, what about the monsoons, when the people live in the middle of flood waters?’ Our boat driver slowed and anchored alongside a huge wharf. Hak gave us his sly look which we had come to know. “Tourist trap city,” he quipped. We jumped from the boat to the wooden barge and onto the visitor mecca of Chong Khneas. We watched as a canoe with a woman at its helm, skimmed across the water toward her ‘gold-mine foreigners’ Her young son stood naked in the boat, a python, double the child’s size and weight, hanging around the boy’s neck. Hak whispered, “She’s Vietnamese people. They come up the Mekong and settle here illegally.” From Hak’s tone of voice, it seemed that Cambodians also struggle with illegal immigration problems. Every country has border issues, even if that border is a river. The mother shook her fist at tourists, who took photos of ‘son and snake’ without throwing money into the canoe. Exploitation of children; time to leave, I motioned to Hak. Carol L. Bowman
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COLUMNIST
Unsung Heroes Jack Of All Trades By Kathy Koches
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everiano Chavarría Hernández, or “Chevy” as he is known to one and all, is truly an “unsung hero” here at Lakeside. He is a bi-lingual concierge, licensed guide and driver, caretaker, construction worker, roofer, home care giver, handyman and performs a host of other jobs as needed, while contributing to his community of San Antonio Tlayacapan. If he can’t do the job you need he will know someone who can. Born in Ajijic and raised in San Antonio Tlayacapan, Chevy has been married to his lovely wife, Carmen for 32 years. They have three children, Lee, who is a professional trumpet player with Grupo Versatil, Lupita, who is a teacher and Danny, who is in college. They also have 3 grandchildren. I have known them for over 14 years, and was privileged to attend Lupita’s quinciñera and Chevy and Carmen’s 15th anniversary celebration. Chevy and Carmen are devout Catholics, who attend 7:30 am mass in San Antonio, and 9 am and 12 pm masses in Chapala every Sunday. They have sung in the Chapala choir since 1987. Chevy grew up poor, and his father died when he was just 15. He took any and every job he could to help his mother provide for the family. He has always wanted to “give back” to the community that helped him in his youth. He collects toys, shoes and blankets throughout the year and distributes them to the poor of his village during the posadas December 16-20
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Chevy Hernández every year. If someone needs his services and cannot afford to pay, he will offer his services to them free of charge. Two of his clients, elderly ladies, had their pension cut and one had a stroke. He helps them with their daily needs and had a fund-raiser to help one get a pacemaker. He takes people to medical appointments and acts as a translator when needed and also has driven people to the border and to the beach. For the past 25 years Chevy has gone up in the hills and collected branches to make Christmas decorations, which he sells. All profits go to help the poor in San Antonio. He also collects firewood for them. In the future Chevy wants to be a delegado or perhaps run for mayor of San Antonio Tlayacapan. He wants the money collected in San Antonio to be used to improve things in San Antonio, such as improving the water and the soccer field. Chevy is one of the most caring and kind people I have had the pleasure of knowing, and I am proud to call him my amigo. Kathy Koches
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THE ROOTS OF HEAVEN ARE THESE: Freedom, Justice, Dignity Dr. Lorin Swinehart
M
“
an is destroying the forests, poisoning the oceans, poisoning the very air we breathe. The oceans, the forests, the races of animals and mankind are the roots of heaven. Poison heaven at its roots, and the tree will wither and die. The stars will go out, and heaven will be destroyed.” These words spoken by the elderly naturalist Peer Qvist in French author Romain Gary’s 1956 novel The Roots of Heaven are more frighteningly relevant today than when uttered. The Roots of Heaven is an aging volume, now gathering dust on the back shelves of public libraries or perhaps moldering away in long forgotten card-
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board boxes in attics or basements. Its characters should resonate with anyone today who is concerned with the destruction by poachers and others of the last wild African elephants, with the abuse and slaughter of all endangered and threatened species of wildlife. The story, a parable for our time, deserves to be rescued from its current obscurity. Romain Gary led a checkered life as author, soldier, diplomat, adventurer. He served as a pilot with the Free French during World War II and was either shot down or crashed on more than one occasion. He was a prolific writer, but Roots of Heaven is perhaps his most enduring work, his master-
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piece. His works do not provide happy endings but reflect less desirable realities. It may be that all stories in the realworld end in loss and sorrow. Perhaps there are no truly happy endings. The protagonist of Gary’s story is Morel, a former dentist who survives a lengthy incarceration in a Nazi concentration camp, partly by imagining herds of wild elephants trudging freely across the African veldt. To Morel, elephants symbolize freedom, and freedom must be defended. His first act upon being released from the Stalag is to free all the dogs from a dog pound and then to burn the establishment to the ground. Afterward, he sets out for Africa. Morel says that man is a lonely creature, that he needs animals as companions. Dogs and cats are insufficient. Man needs larger animal friends, like elephants. For some time, Morel lives a hermitlike life among a herd of wild elephants, causing the collection of European expatriates and outcasts, most of them wallowing in nihilism and despair, who inhabit the bar inside a night club in nearby Fort Lamy to suspect him of misanthropy, terrorism, even being in league with Communists and terrorist groups like the dread Mau Mau, who were causing an uproar in Kenya at the time. In contradiction to all these misunderstandings, his activities seem innocent, even naive, as he goes about toting a brief case and urging people to sign a petition banning elephant hunting. Finding his simple idealism rejected, even scoffed at, he decides upon a more drastic course of action, a sort of non-lethal terrorism, and begins actively defending the peaceful herds from their human tormentors. Leading a band of what we might call monkey wrenchers today, composed of societal rejects, misfits, opportunists and fervid idealists like himself, Morel begins to do serious battle with those who prey upon Africa’s defenseless pachyderms. Apparently a crack shot, he knee-caps one hunter as he is about to shoot an elephant. When he spots another about to execute an agonized mother as she attempts to rescue her trapped infant who is headed to a life in a zoo, Morel, sends a high powered rifle round into the man’s posterior, causing him to repent of his earlier sins against creation and express sympathy for his attacker’s views. To Morel, elephants stand as living contradictions to the communal, industrial, mechanistic society that is wreaking havoc across the natural world. He openly reiterates that elephants are the only thing he cares about, that he has no other agenda, political or otherwise. Others attempt to co-opt his simple, honest quest to their own agendas, African nationalism, for instance. At first,
only a handful can even begin to grasp the purity of his motives. There is a hint of something almost Christ-like about the role Morel plays. He wears a Cross of Lorraine pin, attesting to his role during the Resistance. It is, after all, a Cross. He defends creatures that are without sin, who cannot possibly deserve the treatment they too often receive from humans. All the while, white men perceive elephants as mere sources of ivory, and local Africans see them only as walking chunks of bloody red meat. There is even a Mary Magdalene among Morel’s entourage, a beautiful German woman named Minna, a singer, stripper and sometimes prostitute who has been repeatedly raped by members of one wave of conquerers after another. Minna’s love for Morel becomes starkly evident as the story progresses. There is a sort of Judas, a young man named Youssef who has been inserted into Morel’s small group with orders to assassinate him rather than ever let him be captured and be discovered not to be a symbol of African independence. A Jesuit priest modeled after Father Teilhard de Chardin, accuses Morel of elevating elephants over the needs of the African people, a tired and trite but all too common view among those who refuse to recognize the essential role played by every creature in the food chain, the chain of life on earth itself. Morel’s activities become too effective to ignore as he roams the bush, firing well placed rounds into the most vulnerable body parts of elephant hunters. Tensions heighten when his group sentences and subjects one notorious female elephant killer to a public flogging. His activities include burning down the houses and shops of elephant hunters and those who profit from their bloody activities. At the same time, his quest gains him a global following, composed of those across the world who are in sympathy with his love of nature and passion to protect it. British naturalist Sir David Attenborough’s latest publication, A Life on Our Planet, offers some hope for the future of biodiversity on our island home. He notes that nature possesses great power to heal itself and offers as an example the present-day Ukrainian town of Pripyat, devoid of human presence ever since the April,1986 explosion of the nearby Chernobyl nuclear power plant. No human has dwelled there since. However, Attenborough points out, other species have come to call the place home; foxes, elk, deer, bison, bears, even wolves. The area is now a wildlife preserve. While there is no excuse for rosy colored optimism, and Attenborough Continued on page 40
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From page 38 pulls no punches in delineating the global environmental catastrophe facing the next generation, he posits that humans can take a hand in preserving and restoring the natural environment and points to the increase in the population of mountain gorillas and the international ban on whaling as examples. It is heartening that some Native American nations, along with state and federal departments of natural resources and such organizations as the World Wildlife Fund are successfully reintroducing the once nearly extinct North American bison back into its original home on the prairies. Gary argues, through his character Morel, that man is powerful enough to protect the natural world, including elephants. The question looms as to whether wild elephants, pangolins, orangutans, rhinos, tigers, snow leopards, the Florida panther, the polar bear and gray wolf will remain with us long enough for future restoration efforts to succeed. Will the last elephant die a lonely death in a zoo or, product of a taxidermist’s art, gather dust in a museum alongside other species, like the passenger pigeon, doomed to extinction by human cruelty, rapacity and shortsightedness.
A closely related question concerns whether or not there is hope for imperfect mankind. Most of the expats in the story stand by word, thought and deed as living epitomes of opposing ideologies, calling to mind the clashes between archangels and demons at the dawn of time, as the first bipeds descended from the sanctity their treetop aeries and began to roam across the African savannah. The palliative offered by some of Gary’s characters that the solution lies in altering human consciousness by means of substances cooked up in soulless scientific laboratories is not reassuring. Such arguments have been made by Aldous Huxley, Arthur Koestler and others. The Chardin character argues that a new, more ethical and kinder form of humanity may evolve naturally, ascending from its reptilian origins and becoming at last fully human. Currently, there appears even less evidence of such happy progress than when Gary penned his book. Among the many who express concern over the gory fate of the remaining wild elephants, there are few who, while labelling the conflict with poachers a war, actually treat it as such. At the present, though, there is an authentic mirror image of Morel, a former Israeli commando named Nir Kalron who trains and leads African rangers in their
never ending battle against poachers. His story is highlighted in the June, 2016 issue of Smithsonian Magazine. At the time of the report, Kalron’s group MAISHA was conducting anti-poaching actions in the Central African Republic, and he has since expanded the scope of his activities to include other African nations. While Kalron has his critics, they seem to mostly be wide of the mark, repeating tired platitudes while arguing that anti-poaching efforts need to address underlying economic and societal factors. Kalron brushes these criticisms aside. He knows how to deal successfully with gangs of murderous poachers, including terrorist groups like Boka Haram who use illegal ivory sales to finance their violent misogynistic agendas. While drying up the Far Eastern markets for elephant ivory and rhino horn is a necessary goal, rangers on the ground must take on a more active day to day role, relying upon paramilitary techniques to defeat poachers. Perhaps the spirit of Morel lives on in the persons of Kalron and his devoted anti-poaching rangers. Amidst a severe drought while a herd of elephants congregates around the only available source of water, Morel and his group are ambushed and captured. Led by Watairi, an African nationalist preaching continental independence with himself as the master of a huge new empire. Rather than a liberator like Simon Bolivar, Watairi more closely resembles the stone-cold psychopathy of a Joseph Stalin, a liberator who will enslave his followers. Hundreds of elephants are slaughtered in cold blood. The goal of the massacre is to use elephant ivory to purchase weapons for the coming war of liberation. Watairi argues that elephants and other African fauna are unnecessary baggage that enable Europeans and other outsiders to regard the continent as a vast zoo, while neglecting the human inhabitants’ just craving for freedom. In his jaundiced view, the unfortunate creatures constitute barriers to modernization and progress, and they
all must be eliminated. Like a Pol Pot wannabe, he comes to regard even his fellow Africans as barriers to efficiency and progress. Joe Stalin would be smiling in his grave. After Youssef refuses to complete his assignment, allowing Morel to live, Gary hints that the protagonist continues to live among his beloved pachyderms and to battle for their survival. Perhaps he will return someday. Perhaps he has in the person of Kalron. Currently, there are only an estimated 450,000 wild elephants remaining, out of the millions who once wandered peacefully across the African vastness. They face multiple threats, not only from trophy hunters and poachers but from habitat destruction. Presently, ReconAfrica, a Canadian gas and oil company proposes a vast petroleum drilling project across elephant habitat in Namibia and Botswana. A short time ago, hundreds of elephants died mysteriously in southern Africa, probably because of algae contamination in their nearby water source. Given that John Huston was disappointed in the film he directed based upon Gary’s novel and featuring such luminaries of the silver screen of yesteryear as Errol Flynn, perhaps the story of Morel could be retold with a prominent environmental activist such as Leonardo DiCaprio in the starring role. For those of us who feel there is little we can do to address the cruelties of the wildlife trade, we can at least refuse to purchase products composed of parts of elephants and other majestic creatures, such as tigers and rhinos. And we might consider supporting the World Wildlife Fund or the Wildlife Conservation Society who fight the good fight globally. Morel’s attackers accuse him of arrogance in his belief that humans can protect nature. In our time and place, it is criminally irresponsible and self-destructive to believe otherwise. It is up to us to save our fellow creatures and, in the process, to save ourselves. Humans are the problem, and humans must decide whether to be good husbandmen of the earth, protectors of the creation, or to behave more like a malignancy devouring its host organism and at the same time extinguishing itself. Will we be complicit in a manmade Gotterdammerung at the end of time, when the stars go out and heaven dies, or will we follow the example provided by Romain Gary’s character Morel and that of the real life Nir Kalron. Lorin Swinehart
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Mimi Learns To Bargain By Mel Goldberg
I
had lived at and worked at a private zoo for almost two years and about three months ago I started having an affair with Judy, the groundskeeper, who was also my supervisor’s wife. One afternoon, my supervisor William barged into the small room that served as my bedroom and office. “Was my wife in here with you yesterday?” “No, William,” I responded, lying which made me feel uncomfortable. “Really? I checked the security video and her car was in the parking lot for almost two hours.”
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“Well. . .” “And yesterday was her day off,” he shouted. “Were you able to see the license plate? Because there may be other people who have the same car.” “She drives a green Honda CR-V.” I knew the video was black and white, which means green shows up as gray. “That’s a very popular make of car. I think one of the custodians has a gray CR-V.” I was worried. William didn’t like me very much and he had been a col-
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legiate boxer. He was very macho and tended to be a bit crude. That may be why his wife began sleeping with me. I was more the literary type and even wrote poetry. Willian glared at me. “I want to check the internal videos.” “Good idea,” I said, knowing the internal videos are dark because dim lighting does not disturb nocturnal animals. The grainy videos showed several people walking between the cages. One showed me walking with someone with long hair who could not be identified as either male or female. Our backs were turned away from the camera. “Shit,” he said. “I know. I’ll ask Mimi.” He walked out of my little office and started toward the cage where Mimi the chimpanzee lived. We had been working with Mimi to understand American Sign Language and she had a vocabulary of almost 100 signs. When we got to her cage, he tapped on the bars and Mimi shuffled over to where we stood. Mimi put her hand next to her forehead near her ear and moved it outwards away from her body to sign, “Hello.” William signed, “Hello,” back. Then he raised his forefinger and hooked in a sort of question mark. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. Mimi moved her entire body up and down to signal a “yes” response. I suddenly had a premonition of William turning and punching me in the face as we stood outside Mimi’s cage. I tried to keep a bland expression because Mimi could read facial and body language. I am sure she was already getting the signal that I was upset. William took out his cell phone and scrolled to a photo of him with his wife Judy. He held the phone up to Mimi. She studied the photo. William pointed to the ground and moved his thumb from his chin
to ear with his fingers closed to sign, “Here yesterday?” He was asking Mimi if Judy was here yesterday. Mimi looked past William to me, standing behind him. She held up three fingers. I shook my head,”No.” “What the hell does that mean?” William asked. Then he signed again. “Here yesterday?” Mimi moved her entire body up and down again to signal a “yes” response. William turned to glare at me, his fingers closed into fists. “You son-ofa-bitch. I’m going to kill you.” “Wait a minute,” I said, my voice squeaking a bit. “You were here yesterday, weren’t you? Mimi might be a bit confused. Maybe you need to show her a picture of Judy alone.” His shoulders relaxed a bit as he scrolled through his phone until he came to a photo of Judy alone. “Here’s one.” He held it up toward the bars. Mimi looked past William to me and held up five fingers. She had me. I swear she smiled and started bobbing up and down. As Mimi studied the photo I held up five fingers behind his head and nodded. “Here yesterday?” William signed again. Mimi looked intently at the photo and then took her index finger together with her middle finger and tapped them together with her thumb to sign, “No.” William looked skeptically at Mimi but Chimps facial expressions are very hard to read. William scrolled to find another picture of Judy. He held it up and signed again, “Here yesterday?” Again Mimi signed, “No.” William turned toward me, his face almost purple with anger. “I’m going to ask Judy,” he said. “And you had better be telling me the truth if you know what’s good for you. And so should she.” I nodded, knowing that Judy would deny everything. Once he left the cage area, Mimi banged on the bars. Then she held her left palm up, touched it with her right index finger and pointed to herself. I knew that sign. She was telling me to pay her. I went to the storage area and returned with five bananas which she greedily accepted and took back to her sleeping area. I wondered if all chimps understood the idea of bargaining and lying. Apparently Mimi did. Mel Goldberg
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Mis Tres Amigos By Margie Harrell
A
s I leisurely strolled the colorful side-streets and paths of Chapala the village seemed unusually quiet with very little activity in the plaza. Then I remembered, it was siesta time. Between 2:00pm and 4:00pm every afternoon Mexico closes it’s gates to all business. As I enjoyed this peaceful day on the shores of Lake Chapala, my decision to retire in Mexico was beginning to feel like the perfect choice. Calm and contented I continued on my way. I had business in town and must get to it. It was here that I stumbled upon the first of my three amigos. My first stop was at the office of the realtor who handled the paperwork vis- a- vis my home in California. The arrangement was, all expenses incurred by the renter (me) were to be paid by the realtor (them) and I was required to go to their office once a month and settle up accounts. I am sure this honor system has changed many times over the years but I was fortunate to live in Mexico at a time when life was still fairly easy and simple. I recall a time when I was having my auto repaired and when it came time to pay I asked how much and his answer was quite a surprise. He replied “You drive two, three days, you like, you come back and pay me.” True story—Such innocence and trust. The Chapala Realty office is located in a century old two storied house in the heart of town, one block from the only traffic light for miles. The location was ideal at a time when the lake was clean and fresh with no dreaded lirio the hyacinth flower plant that seemed to grow overnight. It was possible at that time to swim and fish right from your front door. I hadn’t noticed the man sitting on an old chair on the porch but I immediately made a snap decision, a habit of mine, on who he must be. It was hot, everything was closed, so he had decided this would make a perfect spot to spend a couple of hours and cool off. I said nothing to him as he dozed in the shade.
La señora who answered my persistent knocking said she was not authorized to take pesos and please, could I come back after 4.00pm. Just then the stranger spoke. “I can take care of that for you” he said. He startled me at first but his outstretched hand soon held all my pesos. Why did I give him my money, I didn’t even know this man? With no receipt, no name to trace him later and worst of all—I liked him, I headed for the stairs. As I scurried off the porch steps he disappeared into the office—When I questioned further as to who this stranger might be the reply was. “OH, that’s Richard Tingen —he’s the owner of Chapala Realty and other local businesses. Richard Tingen, I must remember that name I thought—and I did. Technically Mr. Tingen was my boss when I wrote monthly articles for the Ojo Del Lago—As I headed back to my casa my thoughts were racing. This was definitely going to be a learning experience living in Mexico—not for Mexico, they already knew the secret of a long life—keep it simple and don’t sweat the small stuff. It was I who was the student and Mexico had much to teach me. Although we didn’t have a lot of face to face meetings over the years I always felt Richard was keeping an eye on my work. Periodically the editor would tell me that “the Boss” enjoyed my article in the Ojo that month”. And I thought he was just a vagabond traveling the warm spots for the season. My spies tell me he has found his permanent spot-in-the-sun in Puerto Vallarta high on a hilltop where he can observe the world but they can’t always see him. Just like the day we met in Chapala many moons ago. When I first met David Tingen I recall how young and eager he was, ready for whatever the world had to teach him. His family was growing and he was full of enthusiasm to work when he was offered the position of publisher at the Ojo Del Lago. His Dad would be stepping aside somewhat Continued on page 46
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From page 44
so David could take on the job but don’t sell him short, he is much more than just the boss’ son. The impression that comes back to me of this fine young man is how tall he was. Tall and slim. Señor David is of Mexican and Canadian decent and very proud of both. His heritage shows in his politeness and respect for others. When he is conversing with you it is your face he is looking at, an art many of us have lost over the years. Our lives are full of distractions but David has mastered most of them. When you have taken the time to speak to him, he will give you the courtesy of listening intently to you. Just before I was to leave for the U.S I was invited to attend an employee party at the Tango restaurant on Colon. David was the host for this evening of fun and food and also the relief bartender and in charge of whatever else may go wrong. I never saw the man sweat—he was always cool and calm or else the best actor in town. I had arrived with the editor of the magazine and as I sat nursing a wine cooler my escort did a fantastic Mexican two step. David came by our table and sat down then ordered a fresh drink for me. We proceeded to have a delightful conversation until the dancer returned, a little out of breath I might add—David excused himself and went to the kitchen to check on our dinners. The evening was a complete success thanks to our host and the Mexican people who really know how to party. When I finally realized it was time for my kind of writing humor to take a back seat in the Ojo I sent in my resignation. I received a wonderful note from David thanking me for all the articles I had written for the Ojo Del Lago over the years. I quote “We all are going to miss you, no other writer in the area has your edge when it comes to writing about Mexico. Please return to
us soon”. Thank you David, I shall remember Mexico for the rest of my life and the tall man I knew then was and still is a true Winner! Sr. Alejandro Grattan Dominguez pretty impressive moniker I would say until you look closer and discover the man is even more interesting than his Spanish/American name. The list is endless. He is the author of seven novels many of which ended up on Best Seller lists, He has written hundreds of articles on varies subjects, old movies being his specialty and adding to this impressive list he directed and produced movies both in Mexico and in Hollywood and of course, he is the Editor Emeritus of the successful Ojo Del lago. I recall with a smile the first time I met him. My Real Estate tour guide for the day had taken me to the village’s mustsee place—the Lake Chapala Society grounds where everything you ever wanted to know about lakeside could be found. The local Writers’ group were having their monthly meeting on the property so I asked if there was someone in charge that I speak to... “Alex- she called out to a rather worldly looking gent—“this is Margie, she would like to chat with you”. Oh my, we are to chat - all I could manage to get out was “Are there any prerequisite to attending your meetings? He leaned a little closer and replied as straight faced as any seasoned comedian—“Yes, there is”—here it comes. Awards and completed novels I was sure would be on that list. His reply? “ Just one, you have to have a pulse”. He told me later that his one-liner had been used many times before by others. But I didn’t care, I loved it. We were best friends. Teacher and student from that moment on. I only received one bad review from Alex on an article I had sent to him for review for the monthly Ojo. I never forgot it. He was harsh and non-forgiving. It was shape up or ship out time for this writer who was getting a little too sure of herself. One kick in the pants from her well-meaning friend was all this novice needed. Many years have passed since our first meeting but if I close my eyes real tight it all comes back like it was yesterday. I send emails and Christmas cards to my Three Amigos and always they ask when will I be returning to the Mexico I loved so much. My answer is always the same. “ The good Lord willing, mañana mis amigos, mañana. Margie Harrell
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Notes From The Quebec Wilderness: “The Year Of The Residential Rodents” By Gabrielle Blair
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e have been jinxed this year, what with one thing and another. It started with the preparation of the boat which we keep covered with tarps over the winter. When we removed the tarps, we found that squirrels, or maybe chipmunks, had stored a million peanuts, still in their shells, in all the available compartments, along with dried leaves and shredded paper. It took quite the gymnastics by yours truly to reach deep into the wells to clear out the junk of the squirrels’ winter hotel. Then Alec discovered that they’d chewed at the wiring, so that needed repairing and the pur-
chase of a new fire extinguisher in case of something dire happening. As usual, the boat was so loaded that we couldn’t get up on plane using the 115 HP motor, so for an extra boost, we started the auxiliary 20 HP motor and we were up in a moment. We roared off only to have the auxiliary motor cut out after a minute or so. No amount of coaxing could get it to start again. With the motor cover lifted, Alec discovered that the fuel filter housing had become detached and had lodged itself in the gears and, even after he’d managed to free it up, the gears wouldn’t work. Yamaha motors are not supposed to behave like that.
Then followed the almost impossible task of shuffling the luggage around so that we had as much weight in the bow as possible. That still wasn’t enough. As a last resort, both of us crawled over the boxes in the bow and by leaning out precariously, with the steering briefly left on autopilot, the 115 HP was able to reach 15 miles an hour, enough for the boat to plane at full speed. The prospect of the thirty-six kilometer journey, which normally takes 45 minutes, taking five hours had we had to limp along, was not particularly attractive at the end of an already demanding day of packing and loading. When we arrived at the camp, we were glad to see that the ice hadn’t wrecked the dock or swept it away. A good start! Ah, but not for long. With the shutters of the cabin removed, we were greeted by a horrible sight. The mice had overrun the place. Absolutely everything that had not been wrapped in plastic or put away in sealed boxes was used as a toilet. So it has been non stop cleaning of every nook and cranny: everything they had crossed, be it floor, shelf or drawer, required washing, disinfecting or throwing away. Chewed shoelaces and socks seem to have
been a delicacy and my gardening canvas shoes are now in the garbage. So much for the poison that we left in tins and jars all around the outside of the cabin, which in previous years has allowed us to enter the place and find it relatively much the way we’d left it, eight or nine months ago. Anyhow the cleaning has been my job. Alec’s work has thankfully gone smoothly: the water got hooked up easily, the pump started and we only found one leak; the giant batteries that are fed power from the solar panels are doing their job; the generator started right away and the bald eagle and her young are in their nest, just like last year and the year before. She glowers at us from the branch beside her nest, perched on the highest pine on the opposite side of the bay. Eagle junior pokes his head out and occasionally flaps his already large black wings. The hare that lives under the cabin has bounded off a couple of times, surprised to find his tranquility disturbed by the noisy occupants above his home. Signs of bears? They’ve been here for sure and have stripped the mountain ash shrubs of their leaves. My columbine and foxglove seedlings planted last year are already flowering and the peony has clusters of healthy pink buds. There’s a heat-wave at the moment, but the lake water is pristine and fresh, not too cold, and the swimming is divine. We are ready to start enjoying being here in this incredible silence, with peeper frogs serenading us on a starry night, and a half moon reflected in the lake. Finally with the internet connected to satellite, I can tell you all about it. Gabrielle Blair
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Let The Commencement Begin By Tom Nussbaum
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North Carolina high school student was denied his diploma recently because he draped a Mexican flag over his graduation gown. According to the school principal, doing so was a direct violation of the commencement dress code. She also offered to give the young man his diploma if he were to apologize for breaking the rule and disrupting the ceremony. But he wouldn’t. Immediate charges of racism were leveled at the principal, school, and school district. Another Mexican student, however, decorated her mortarboard with a Mexican flag and received her
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diploma, stifling the charges. That, according to school officials, was because the rules clearly state that only the mortarboard can be altered. I bring this up because it reminds me of my stuffy commencement ceremony fifty-plus years ago and how the ritual has changed over the years. We didn’t take political stands or make personal statements back then. It wasn’t in our consciousness. Yet. The most daring incident to occur at my graduation involved a student who created a faux middle name, one which he thought was funny, for all his senior year records. “Percival” got the intended laugh from those in the know when it was read aloud
El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
as the jokester crossed the stage to accept his diploma. Clueless faculty and officials, of course, wondered what triggered the chuckles. Several years later I attended another graduation. By now, the do-your-own-thing 1970s were in full swing and expressing one’s individuality and rebelliousness was the norm. A shaggy-haired young man received his diploma, stepped to the top of the ramp leading off the podium, pulled a skateboard from under his graduation gown, and rode back to his seat. Had that young North Carolinian hidden his Mexican flag under his gown, pulled it out after receiving his diploma, and waved it with the pride he felt, there would have been no controversy and no problems. Many years after the skateboarder cruised to his seat, after I became a high school special education instructor, attending commencement became an annual tradition for me. Any remnants of the stiff formality of my generation’s graduation ceremonies were gone. Jeans, shorts, and flip-flops replaced dress shoes, black slacks, and conservative dresses. Graduates with Hawaiian or Polynesian heritage wore leis around their necks. Those identifying as LGBTQ added rainbow decorations to their mortarboards. Christians secured crosses to theirs. Recently-arrived African students embellished their caps with reminders of their homeland. Sequined or brightly painted personal messages decorated others. They followed the rules. Mortarboards could be decorated; gowns could not. They were told this at commencement rehearsal the morning of the ceremony. I know this because I witnessed many rehearsals, assisting my special needs students. And students were told to refrain from “embarrassing your family by unnecessarily drawing attention to yourself or showboating when accepting your diploma.” At one rehearsal, as the staff member finished his instructions, I turned and found myself facing the boy most likely to showboat that night. Our eyes met. But before I tell you what happened next, let me tell you something about him. I had been aware of Josh from his first days as a freshman. He seemed to know every prominent senior and he hung with them. That is unusual because, generally, seniors do not socialize with, let alone acknowledge, freshman. But when I learned Josh’s last name, I understood. His older brother Zach was a popular,
athletic senior and, it appeared, that Josh had become the unofficial younger brother of the entire clique. Josh also ran with many of the male African-American members of his class. It appeared he thought of himself as one of them. He dressed, swaggered, and moved to music like them. He was a wigger, a late Twentieth Century term for a White dude who identified as quasi-Black His association with both groups—the “cool” seniors and his Black freshman peers—gave him a confidence rarely seen in freshmen. At lunch, he would stride into the Activity Center, full of upper classmen, as if he owned it. In the halls, he raucously careened from one social situation to another. But with his confidence came an unflattering cockiness and arrogance. He came off as a loud attention-seeker. My initial reaction to him was not positive. By the time Josh was a senior, his wigger days were history and he had become the stereotype good-looking jock who thought he was cooler than he actually was. He was among the movers and shakers in the senior class. But he still had that off-putting attitude. We had brief interactions— ”Nice game.” “Great shirt.”—but I’m sure he did not know who I was other than “that special ed dude.” But he was, I must admit, always polite and respectful when we interacted and, as a result, my opinion of him improved. Perhaps two weeks before he graduated, Josh, I learned from his P.E. teacher, had a disruptive encounter with a girl in the class, a girl who he had known him since elementary school. “You are so conceited and arrogant,” she charged with anger. The boy’s confrontive demeanor changed instantly, the teacher told me. He stepped back, looked painfully hurt, and tried to defend himself. “How can you say that? You know me.” And he turned and ran out of the gym. The teacher said he looked as if he was on the verge of crying. A few days later, I had the opportunity to talk with Josh and I purposefully echoed the girl’s sentiments. “I gotta tell you something before you graduate. I have to admit,” I began, “I didn’t like you much when you were a freshman.” Josh looked directly at me. He didn’t nod, but his eyes did. “I thought you were cocky and arrogant. But this year, I’ve figured out that there’s a lot more to you than that. You’re an OK guy.” He snorted a laugh. “I had a longtime friend tell me I was conceited and arrogant a few weeks ago,” he said. I played dumb. “Of all people.
She’s known me for like forever.” He paused. “That hurt.” “Well, if she said that and I just told you what my first impression of you was, maybe that’s something you could correct in college. When you meet people there,” I suggested, “let them see what’s inside here and here” — and I motioned to his heart and head — “and not just all this.” My hands swirled around his exterior, his muscular façade. He smiled. “I can’t wait for college.” “Why?” “I get to create a new me. Finally.”
So, when our eyes met at the end of commencement rehearsal, I rhetorically asked, “You think he had you in mind when he warned about showboating?” The young man pulled me into a hug and buried his face in the curve of my neck. His friends stared. He said nothing, but I could hear him think, Finally, someone here gets me. He didn’t showboat that night. Tom Nussbaum
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The Ojo Crossword
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
ACROSS
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Syrian bishop Disconcert Tax agency Foot sores Asian nation Celibate Island Dined Not against Before, poetically State of anxiety Indian woman Prow Portly Loaded Painter Frida Big cigarette Margarine Not young Unique Penned Popular stadium Bitsy Chess piece Snow slider Masculine Useless Tortilla treat Cover a present Accumulate Huge whale American Cancer Society (abbr.) Compass point Deduce Acclaim Elver Situated at a junction Disney’s flying elephant Dull Large File
Dull pain Wild pig Soft cheese Colony insect “One Man Gang” Ferry Significant aesthetically Espy Chewbacca’s partner (2 wds.) Data Not urban Poor tv reception Sieve Scarlet Status __ Influence Seasoning Formal “you” Flat-bottomed boat Prong Leer at Strange Buckeye State Dregs Challenge Accustomed Rolled chocolate candy brand Bounce a stone Growing Abided Married woman Sphere Established at a location Brown Vulgarly “we are the __” Denote __ mater
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Service
* ADVERTISING / DIRECTORY
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Pag: 42
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Pag: 38
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
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Pag: 45
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Pag: 02
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Pag: 42
Pag: 06 Pag: 03 Pag: 13
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Pag: 03
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Pag: 36
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* GARDENING Pag: 39
Pag: 38 Pag: 16 Pag: 34
Pag: 08
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Pag: 32
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Pag: 06
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Pag: 20
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Pag: 16
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Pag: 39
* FISH MARKET
EMERGENCY HOTLINE 911 CRUZ ROJA 376 765-2308, 376 765-2553 FIRE DEPARTMENT 376 766-3615 POLICE Ajijic 376 766-1760 Chapala 376 765-4444 La Floresta 376 766-5555
Pag: 26
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Pag: 33
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Pag: 32
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Pag: 48 Pag: 28
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Pag: 34 Pag: 14 Pag: 45
* REAL ESTATE
* RETIREMENT/REST/NURSING HOMES
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* RENTALS/PROPERTY MANAGEMENT - COLDWELLBANKER CHAPALA REALTY Pag: 50 Tel: 376 766-1152 - FOR RENT Pag: 46 Cell: 333-667-6554 - FOR RENT Tel: 331-410-6380, 331-335-7738 Pag: 49 - FOR RENT Tel: 333-157-7790 Pag: 52 - ROMA Tel: 33-1075-7768 Pag: 20 - VILLAS DEL SOL Pag: 51 Tel: 376 766-1152
* RESTAURANTS / CAFES /BAR - AJIJIC TANGO Tel: 376 766-2458 - CASA LINDA Tel: 376 108-0887 - GO BISTRO Cell: 33-3502-6555 - MOM’S DELI & RESTAURANT Tel: 376 765-5719 - YVES Tel: 376 766-3565
Pag: 58
- CASA ANASTASIA - Care Home Tel: 376 765-5680 - CASA NOSTRA-Nursing Home Tel: 376 765-3824, 376765-4187 - NURSING HOME LAKE CHAPALA S.C. Tel: 376-766-0404, 333-969-8677 - SACRED HEART - Nursing Home Tel: 331-027-1501 - VIDA BELLA SEÑIOR RESIDENCE Tel: 376-765-4000
Pag: 29 Pag: 35 Pag: 39 Pag: 47 Pag: 10
* SATELLITES/ T.V. - AJIJIC ELECTRONICS S.A. DE C.V. Tel: 376 766-1117, 376 766-3371 - SHAW SATELLITE SERVICES Tel: 33-1402-4223
Pag: 24 Pag: 48
* SOCIAL ORGANIZATIONS - FOODBANK LAKESIDE - LOS NIÑOS DE CHAPALA Y AJIJIC Tel: 376 765-7032
Pag: 45 Pag: 55
* SPA / MASSAGE - GANESHA SPA Tel: 376 766-5653, Cell: 331-385-9839 - TOTAL BODY CARE Tel: 376 766-3379
Pag: 24 Pag: 39
* SOLAR ENERGY - SUN QUEST ENERGY Tel: 376 766-6156, Cell: 333-117-9126
Pag: 41
* TAXI / TRANSPORTATION - OMAR MEDINA Cell: 33-1281-2818 - TAXI-Arturo Fernandez Cell: 333-954-3813
Pag: 51 Pag: 24
* TREE SERVICE - CHAPALA TREE SERVICE Tel: 376 762-0602, Cell: 33-1411-0242
Pag: 46
* TOURS - CHARTER CLUB TOURS Tel: 376-766-1777
Pag: 07
* WATER - TECNO AQUA Tel: 376 766-3731, 376 688-1038
Pag: 36
* WORKSHOP - A HANDS OF LIGHT US Cell: +1 775-722-2863
Pag: 45
Pag: 33 Pag: 07 Pag: 03 Pag: 06
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CARS
FOR SALE: 2017 Volkswagen Up. Named 2017 Auto Express “City Car of the Year”. Like New; One Owner; Fully Loaded; Jalisco Plates: 63,000 Km. Clean Title. Full Service History Available. Priced to sell fast at $140,000 (@ $7,000 USD. Call me 376-766-4338 FOR SALE: 2006, Mercedes. Benz. C. 280, mexican...$99. Am the owner is v.6, all paid, 135 kms, Jalisco, plated, leather, s roof, cold a/c. In Ajijic only $99 thousand pesos. 333-034-6557 no emails. FOR SALE: Golf Cart for sale, new batteries, used very very Little. $3000 US. boswelltb@yahoo.com. 332 055 6255. FOR SALE: 1979, Mercedes Model 116-120, 5 cylinders, 300 SD, 347,933 miles four-door, excellent condition, no rust, and new tires in 2/08/2019. Garaged last year due to not being able to return to Mexico. Special Mexican Antique Plate FR-37, with all paperwork certified. Included with the sale are all original official manuals of repairing the car, and all repairs done to the car since new. This engine is known to go to 500 thousand miles before any repairs are necessary. Price listed from outside sources at 12 to 15 thousand dollars. OBO. Contact Captain Joseph L. Naselli. Phone 376 766 5687. captnaselli@netzero.net WANTED: Anyone out there can give me info on an upholsterer? I want to put in a new cushion in the bench seat in my Grand Cherokee. Thank you in advance. FOR SALE: Looking for a Honda CRV, Toyota RAV4, Nissan Xterra around 2005/2006/2007 in good condition. Mexican plates. Call Norm 331 431 7264. FOR SALE: Toyota FJ Cruiser (Mexican Plated), Year: 2009, MIleage: 80,000, Automatic, 4 x 4 with assisted modes, Price: $315,000.00 pesos, Excellent Condition, Cell: 33-1424-1667
COMPUTERS
WANTED: Wanted Touch monitor for CAD school Have Hammer Will Travel. we getting a new high graphic computer, need there touch monitors for students to use. Wayne 376 688
1282, HHWT office phone can leave message FOR SALE: IPAD Air (4th gen 2020) or IPAD Pro 11” glass screen protector. Bought by mistake when looking for a screen protector for my Galaxy (android) tablet. Box was opened, but everything is new and unused. $200. 332-617-3588. FOR SALE: Android. We have upgraded to fire cube and no longer need the android. Will sale for $1,000 pesos. This is a H96 Pro Ultra HD TV Box. I am now reducing price to $800 pesos. You need a good Wifi signal for it to work properly. Send PM. FOR SALE: Older Kindle for sale with cover. Has keyboard and Google access. Works well. Send PM. FOR SALE: Dell Inspiron 14R, Spanish keyboard and OS. Touchscreen, USB 3.0 + HDMI, Intel. Send PM. FOR SALE: Iphone 11 pro max 256gb. Estetica 9.5, everything works perfectly, not scratched or beaten, only used very little, free for any company. Ready for any test. Send PM. FOR SALE: Mac Mini 2014 + Magic Keyboard 2 and Magic Mouse 2. Asking 10,000 for it. The monitor is not included in the price, and I won’t be selling it. Any information please call or email, 3221499217. gonzalez10diego@ hotmail.com FOR SALE: iPhone 6, 64 Gb gray, for sale only for $3000 pesos, excellent conditions, bring headphones and charger, 64 gigabytes of storage and ready for any cell phone operator, If you are interested please contact me at joencoza2019@yahoo.com
PETS & SUPPLIES
FOR SALE: New in Box from Amazon dog harness, size small. Has LED lights on, off, blinking settings. Color neon green asking $27US or equal in pesos. WANTED: Have five young canaries and three young red-rumpled parakeets ready for new homes. Canaries ready for new homes now. Red-Rumps still being fed by parents so will be another week or so until they are weaned. FOR SALE: Booster seat for your dog to ride in car, be comfortable and see out. Seat
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2021
belt secures. Comfy foam with washable faux sheepskin cover. Used but in good condition. Fits small to medium sized dog. $700 pesos.
GENERAL MERCHANDISE
FOR SALE: Black leather living room set 2 pieces, a 2 seater and 3 seater. Black leather living room set 2 pieces, a 2 seater and 3 seater. excellent condition, clean real leather, come check it out, $18,000 pesos for both Todo Bueno resale and consignment store, next to S&S auto. FOR SALE: Six seater glass table and chairs. Todo Bueno resale and consignment was $14,000 pesos reduced 60 days in store $7000 pesos great deal should go fast, the glass itself is thick and cost over $7000 pesos. Todo Bueno resale and consignment store next to S&S auto. 331-016-0619 open Tues to sat 10 am to 3 pm. FOR SALE: House of miniatures, doll house furniture over 25 pieces, will sell quick must see. Todo Bueno resale and consignment store Next to S&S auto. House of miniatures, doll house furniture over 25 pieces discount $160 US dollars or $3100 pesos. Average price $6 each, buy whole batch with assembly tray, with parts and magnets. Estimated retail value $320 or $6200 pesos. Must see to appreciate all new pieces in boxes. If bought separately $250 pesos a piece for kits. If bought separately $250 pesos a piece for kits. FOR SALE: Dirt Devil Vac & Dust. Used, with one used and one new mophead. $800.00. WANTED: Wanted phone that works that has a message taking recorder, Have Hammer Will Travel woodworking school needs a new phone that takes messages. September semester coming up, need a phone that takes messages. So we do not miss any calls if you are upgrading your phone. please donate old pone drop off t school next S&S auto. We need second phone for inside the shop. Wayne, 376 688 1282. HHWT office. FOR SALE: Set of 16” tires. 6 ply heavy duty. Set of four Continental “Contivancontact 100” tires. Removed from a brand new VW Crafter with only 1250 kilometers. Size 205/75 R16. Good for many vans or truck’s. 6000 pesos for the set. FOR SALE: Set of five 16” aluminum rims, four of them have new Goodyear tires installed. Size 245/70 16 load range D. 19,000 pesos FOR SALE: One year old and very little use. Works and looks like new. $9,500 pesos. can deliver ($15,000 new on mercadolibre) FOR SALE: Commercial Grade Air Cleaner. Are you suffering from allergies, asthma, COPD, pet dander, pollen, and other air pollutants? Are you tired of breathing dust and smoke? This is a top-of-the-line commercial grade air cleaner that uses NASA technology to clean your home or business of unwanted airborne contaminants (viruses, molds, bacteria, fungi, pet dander, etc.) and odors. We brought this unit with us from United States and it’s nearly brand new. Sells for $1,500 USD (about $30,000 pesos); we are selling ours for $500 USD or $10,000 pesos. We’ll even throw in some extra filters, so it’s ready for many years of trouble-free service. Whisper quiet operation. Energy-star rated. Remote control, instructions, and original box is included. Perfect condition! Price is firm/nonnegotiable. Check out their website at: www. healthway.com. Please CALL or text 332 921 6096 between 8am-8pm (calls preferred) FOR SALE: Schwinn suburban 1970 collection bike, all original components, ideal for the ciclovia, very comfortable. It just needs a little maintenance. Price $ 5,000.00. Call Alma Rivera 3310053109
FOR SALE: Colección de 24 tomos del autor Emile Zola; préface de Henri Guillemin. Tomo I a XX: Les Rougon – Macquart. Tomo XXI: Therese raquin la confession de Claude. Tomo XXII a XXIV: Les trois villes (Lourdes Rome - Paris). Idioma francés. Editorial Rencontre Lausanne . Fasquelle Editeurs Paris 1970. Portada de piel fina italiana y diseños de oro. Ejemplares sin ningún uso, totalmente nuevos y en excelentes condiciones. Precio negociable de $50,000 pesos. Contact: mikenan@prodigy.net.mx FOR SALE: Colección La Comédie Humaine del autor Honoré de Balzac. Es una colección de 23 tomos en Idioma Frances. Editorial Rencontre Lausanne 1959. Portada de piel fina italiana y diseños en oro. Ejemplares sin ningún uso, totalmente nuevos y en excelentes condiciones Precio negociable de $55,000 pesos. ¡Aceptamos ofertas en el precio! Contact: mikenan@prodigy.net.mx FOR SALE: Reverse Osmosis Water Filtration System In Like-New Condition! Get clean drinking and cooking water with this Hague Water brand under-the-sink reverse osmosis water filter system. Like-new condition and works perfectly with a faucet included. We just brought this system with us from USA but we are renting and will not be needing it. This system cost $1,600 ($32,000 pesos) and has all new filters on it right now…plus, we have purchased a brand new set of new filters for later use. Sacrifice at $7,000 pesos. Price is firm/non-negotiable. Take a look at all the pics PM for any other details or to come see it. More info at https://www.haguewater.com/ water-filters/reverse-osmosis-filters/h3500/ Please email for a quick response or you can call/text to 332 921 6096 or on Whatsapp. FOR SALE: Porter Cable 6 Gal. 150 PSI Portable Electric Air Compressor – Like New. Porter Cable 6 Gal. 150 PSI Portable Electric Pancake Air Compressor • 150 PSI max • 30 lb. weight allows compressor to be easily carried and stored • Compressor features a long-life, oil-free, maintenance-free pump for convenience • Porter-Cable high-efficiency motor on compressor for easy start-up in cold weather or extension cord application • 120Volt electric unit allows user to run compressor on standard household current • 2 regulated, factory-installed air couplers easily support 2 users • Integrated carry handle for easy portability Like-new condition and works perfectly. Hard-to-find item! 2,500 pesos. Price is firm/ non-negotiable. Please email for a quick response or you can call/text to 332 921 6096 or on Whatsapp. FOR SALE: 2017 Yamaha MT-03 Mexicana. 42,000 km and rising. 38hp/22 ft/lb torque at 360 lbs curb weight. Norton levers, Racetech suspension front and rear, Hi-capacity radiator, tail rack for luggage, Saddleman seat, frame sliders, and rear spools included. Jalisco plated. Original owner with factura and all fees paid in full. Never dropped or wrecked. Needs nothing. A sportbike with compact frame and ergonomics fits vertically challenged riders well. 80,000 MXN OBO. Will consider trade for a 70’s Brit bike or BMW airhead FOR SALE: Todo Bueno consignment and Resale shop next S&S auto in Riberas on the mountain side of the carretera just received two households that are moving. Furniture, household items. Two numerous to mention all. 2 couches. Two seater like lazy boys with drink holders, king size bed, big glass table, small glass tables, speakers, 8 piece setting of spoons fork knifes etc. Larger plastics storage container, small kitchen size plastic foods containers. Large roll of sheer curtain material, nick knacksm, much more. These will sell quickly as. Todo Bueno has a good fan club of a steady stream of traffic and good lighting. All profits go to local charities.
FOR SALE: Plantronics M70 Bluetooth Headset, Special Feature, Bluetooth/ Light Weight, Connectivity Technology, Bluetooth, Brand, Plantronics, Wireless, Communication Technology, Noise Control, Active Noise Cancellation. 800 pesos. FOR SALE: Double recliner like lazy boys with entertainment center in the middle. Must sell! Just bought a new sectional couch with two recliners. $7500 pesos or best offer, non smoker, no animals. This entertainment center with two recliners will be missed, we really enjoyed it. Had it reupholstered 4 years ago both recline to two different positions in very good condition with extra material on arm rests. Can see it now at Todo Bueno Resale shop in Riberas, no space store at home. WANTED: I am interested to purchase a SCHWINN AIRDYNE exercise bike in good condition. JesseMichaelMorris@icloud.com FOR SALE: Aspiradora Hoover Deluxe win turnel mach 3.8, Motor de porton Craftsman chain driver 1/2 HP AC motor, Escaner Musteck, Cargador de carro de golf Tennant 36 vlt, Telefono Panasonic con fax KX - FP80, Maleta grande negra Club Monde, Impresora Canon BJC 2000, Estereo dual D/A Converter Kenwood, Congelador mediano 3x2 pies color cafe (Funciona bien, solo le falta freon), Estereo amplificador Pioneer A205, Radio grabadora Nakazaki, Raquetas usadas en buena condicion : Prince Pro, Wilson Advantage y Wilson Ultra Graphite, Contacto: mikenan@ prodigy.net.mx FOR SALE: Dining Room Table and 12 Chairs, 5 1/2 x 7 foot walnut finished dining
room table with 12 upholstered chairs. $1,500 US or peso equivalent. If interested send PM. FOR SALE: Earthlite Massage Table / Barely used $4500 pesos. Earthlite’s top of the line portable massage table. Precision crafted using Earthlite’s proprietary Jointless formed beam technology and the finest, eco-friendly materials available. Designed by the world’s leading massage table manufacturer to last a lifetime of professional use. Email me at felixbb@yahoo.com. Specifications: Weight: 34 lbs, Width: 30”, Length: 73”, Height Range: 23” - 33”, Static Weight: 3200 lbs. FOR SALE: Hayward Propane Gas Pool Heater 400,000 BTU $65,000 pesos. 332-2546066 Free Delivery. New in package. Send PM. FOR SALE: Original photo by Norm Tihor. Framed and ready to hang. Title: Kissing Alley In Guanajuato. Measures 15” x 20.5” (38cm x 52cm) $1,000 pesos. call Norm at 331 431 7264. Email ntihor@hotmail.com FOR SALE: Show Satellite Dish 75E with DSR 600 and LND Output. 1,600.00 MM Call Richard at 33 2264 8972 or 33 1698 5401 FOR SALE: Smooth Fitness UB4, variety of programs, great exercise bike, selling 4000 pesos, we are moving. 331-763-5597 FOR SALE: Stunning Art Glass Plate / Sculpture With Beach Scene, Signed. Absolutely gorgeous abstract fused art glass plate/ sculpture. It has a beach scene with ocean and seagulls. Measures approximately 12” inches diameter. Signed by the artist - M. Masten (whose art glass studio is in California). His original works can be seen on his web-
site Masten Art Glass and are being sold for around $400-$450 dollars in this size ($8,000$9,000 pesos). 100% authentic and original one-of-a-kind display piece! It does not include a stand. Like-new condition with no damage whatsoever. Selling for only $1,200 pesos. Price is firm/non-negotiable. Please email for a quick response or you can call/text to 332 921 6096 or on Whatsapp. FOR SALE: Placencia Vintage Industrial Collection Bar Cart. 60wx37hx16d. Paid $19,950mxn, asking $10,000mxn. Relocating. Pictures available. 331-763-5597. FOR SALE: Hiking boots excellent condition. Men’s Size 11 Lowa Renegade Gortex hiking books maximum support and comfort. Great for hiking the mountains in Ajijic. Other climbing and hiking equipment. Boots $100 US. New and in perfect condition, shoe trees still in them! Bragg. 376 766 1155. FOR SALE: Handcrafted Table. This beautiful table was hand made in San Miguel de Allende. We have used as a dining table (seats up to 10) and as a library table. $300 US. Mary Bragg 376 7661155. FOR SALE: Followes Electric Paper Shredder Almost new in perfect condition; moving. $30 US. Call Mary Bragg 376 7661155. FOR SALE: Gorky Gonzalez set of six each dinner, salad, dessert and mug. $250 US. Green goblets free with purchase. Additional 2 dinner plates Catrina design, $50 for the two. All in perfect condition. Mary Bragg 376 766-1156. FOR SALE: Catrina dinner plates and
pasta-soup bowls and 8 red blown glass goblets. Place setting for 8, new used once, and moving to smaller location. $240 US fir these beautiful, handmade dishes abd goblets. Call Mary bragg 376 766-1155. Set of 8 each dinner plates, pasta/soup bowls, and mouth blown red goblets. Moving and must sell 3 sets of dishes FOR SALE: Nearly new comfortable folding chairs. Each come with it’s own carrying bag. Only a few months old. We are downsizing. 650 pesos each. Call Norm at 331 431 7264. ntihor@hotmail.com. FOR SALE: Wheelbarrell, good tire. The rest? It will do the job. $10.00. You pick up Chapala Haciendas #2. No delivery or gift wrapping. email: 1988jeopardychampion@ gmail.com FOR SALE: Beautiful Large Photo of Mexican Native Dancers from Veracruz with matt and wooden frame. Measures 37”x30”. Ready to hang. 2,500 pesos. Call Norm at 331 431 7264. ntihor@homail.com. FOR SALE: Beautiful Large Photo of tiger with matt and wooden frame. Measures 33”x33”. Ready to hang. Includes overhead light. 6,000 pesos. Call Norm at 331 431 7264. ntihor@homail.com FOR SALE: Original Prada Shoes, size 24.5 Mexican, only 1 time was used, price $3,000 pesos. Call Alma 331-005-3109 FOR SALE: Individual Brass Headboard, Price $2,200.00 pesos. Call Alma 331-0053109.
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El Ojo del Lago / August 2021