Insights & Observations

By Joe Stuver

In past years, I’ve lived much closer to my family of friends and favorite restaurants and street food vendors, but this year I was much farther away, so I spent a lot of time “commuting,” back and forth to the little village of Jarrtaderas. I finally actually learned how to properly pronounce the name correctly, thanks to a half hour of patient tutoring. The Mexican Js and Gs always give me fits.

Those who have not spent time in little villages have not really seen Mexico. They are very happy places, full of happy sounds: playing kids, music, birds, and crowing roosters adding to the colophony. There are dogs and cats everywhere as spaying is usually unaffordable. Most of the doggies are of the pit bull variety, but most are sweet in their nature. I saw my first actual dog fight this year, which was called off immediately at one of the owner’s shout.

Adding to the din are Senora Virginia’s three parrots, all of whom utter phrases in Spanish. Whenever a kittycat happens by one has a meow down to a fine art, driving so-mentioned kitty to distraction.

Mexicans love their grub too, and mighty good grub it is. I counted 8 street side vendors within two blocks of my friends’ place. All have their specialties: tortas, beef or pork tacos, burritos, bierra, etc.

My family consists of mom Mony, the matron of the family, Senora Virginia. Mony’s oldest daughter, Vicky, is married to Angel, and they have two sons, Dominic and Cedric (Luther and Damien). Flor, the middle daughter, is extremely beautiful inside and out. Natalie, the youngest, has a two-year-old, completely precious daughter Leah. Her husband abandoned both of those beautiful girls. Natalie attends the university there, in pursuit of a degree in orthodontics. It’s a very demanding curriculum.

Mony, then, scrambles constantly to put Natalie through school, pay for their needs, and to begin Leah’s education. Her back is beginning to go, so she can only go out in her fishing boat two or three times a week, and sends either Vicky or Flor the rest of the time. She also makes fishing jigs, polishes and mounts billfish points, makes charactures using sea creatures, and most mornings makes caviche for sale.

She is a respected fisherperson, a business completely dominated by men. She had to earn that respect doubly.

She’s a happy, busy, giving person indeed, who swears like a sailor.

Senora Virginia is a cool old girl in her own right. She had 19 kids, and furnished each with their own homes, even after losing her husband to diabetes. At 75, she went zip-lining just before I got there. She’s also a spry old bat.

They live on a dead-end street just off of the main drag. Vicky and family live at the end, in a house given to them by Mony. She actually has three homes to give to her three daughters.

The rest of the crew reside with Senora Virginia, in her warm home in which I have been made welcome so many times.

Little Leah again quickly stole my heart, but it was some time before I could make any headway in seeking a place in her own heart. She is unused to men, except for Angel who is for all practical purposes her daddy, and a teenage cousin. John’s beautiful Yellowstone moss agate ring made for me helped break the ice. Girls of all ages love pretty jewelry.

I also noticed other family members giving her high fives. I offered fist bumps, which she loved dearly. Soon I was getting hugs and little girl kisses, which melted my heart into a little puddle of goo.

Flor volunteered to clean my home, so about every five days she took the bus over, cooked and shared breakfast, and cleaned my digs until it sparkled. She had always been working in past visits and I hadn’t gotten to really know her. She is among the sweetest, most thoughtful and giving people I’ve ever met.

A very strange thing happened during her first cleaning. She moved one of my suitcases, and one of my favorite photos of Patti, kissing a salmon while we were fishing with her Eliason cousins at Sitka, fell out on the floor. I have no idea how it got there. My immediate thought, other than sadness, was that she is still riding shotgun during my travels.

Continued next week.