I really need to push the pause button on this travelblog soon now that we're home...and push play at a later date. But first, a few thoughts about the trip. It all started with virtually the whole planet telling us not to go to Mexico. Well, we went anyway...Swine Flu be damned. After many emails, phone calls and comforting words from friends on the ground, we headed south and proceeded to have an amazing summer. Best summer ever. Granted, it was weird that we were the only people driving thru customs on the way down, and if you had filmed us from way up in the sky you would have seen a little red speck of a car zipping along all alone, pushing south on the cuota towards Patzcuaro. Maybe you would've heard a dog barking madly as we drove out of toll booths, but maybe you wouldn't have...being so far up in the sky and all. Our dogs were always relaxed when I "rolled" the window down to hand attendants 15 or 150 pesos, but as soon as we drove away Nemo would go ballistic. I finally figured out that he must've thought the attendant was running away as we drove on. Who knows. We discovered Nemo hated men in hats, especially men in hats on bicycles, and horses were the devil's work. So they suffered the fullness of his wrath.
Our summer was BUSY, full of artmaking, good food, reconnecting with old friends and making lots of new ones, experiencing small and large cultural events, gardening like crazy, painting the house and fixin' what needed fixin'. My head is so full of stories, memories, and future pics that I have spent the past two days pulling weeds and not saying much. Blissfully exhausted, continuing to prepare for the upcoming semester. Definitely not going down to the farmer's market with a pocket full of cash.
Almost exactly one year ago Becky and I returned home after an exciting summer south of the border. Returned home early because a commercial gig demanded our attention. I thought to myself: "Well, atleast tomatoes and peaches are still in season." After unpacking and doing some laundry we went to the ATM and withdrew $60, then drove down to Nashville's Farmer's Market. Blinded by heirloom tomatoes and white peaches, I was blocked by an old woman with a walker. She wasn't smiling and she wasn't shopping, and she was in my way. Then someone bumped into me. For some reason I said "Excuse me" and turned around to see a small red-headed woman, not smiling, then turned my attention back to the wild display of wonderfulness. Drunk on blueberry lemonade, and loaded down with Cherokee Purples, Japanese Blacks, and Abe Lincolns, I walked over to pay but couldn't find my wallet. My first thought was, hmm. Then I thought I must've left it in my car. Weird. Went back to the car, looked inside and around and on the ground, puzzled. Then I thought of that little red-headed girl; I felt flushed, then pissed, then I started running through the market looking for her. Arrrgh! No luck. No, no, no! This hasn't happened. I drove all the way to Mexico, spent the entire summer in FULL markets surrounded by hundreds, driving all over the country in search of adventure and weird pottery and back again, safely. Back to Nashville only to get ripped off in my own hometown. NOOO! Yes. Went home with no tomatoes. Becky was wise enough to shut our credit cards down immediately, but still, the hassle of getting a new driver's license and all. Uggh. What a pain.
Later that evening, still not believing what had transpired but strangely amused by the irony of it all, we prepared to have dinner at a friend's house. Running late, we were stepping out the door when I heard the phone ring. Should I answer or not; we were already late. I answered the phone then heard a country voice ask: "IstherahDahngthr?!" I said, "What?" "Ids ther ah dang brawthereha?...Ifou nd hidz walletintha Famur'sMakat today." I said, "YEAH, I'm Dang Brawner; who is this?" "My name'sOllie Stanntonn and I'm a truck driver and I'm live in Millusville at Exit 108; turn right near the fireworks stand, past the Doller General and the trailer park; my wife's paralyzed and we're having dinner downstairs; turn left into the agongnaogaog Bnvln vn lsv...I'm a truck driver, leaving tomorrow; if you want your wallet, you better get up here tonight." "WO!!!!...BACK UP a minute; let me find a pencil; which exit?!" Next thing I know I'm dropping Becky off at Jane's and headed to Millersville relieved that I won't have to renew my driver's license. (And as I'm driving along, my mind starts to wander.) And I start thinking about the events of the day and my conversation with the trucker. He kept saying, "My wife's paralyzed." He said, "My daughter's been visiting, and I'm leaving for Knoxville in the morning." He said: "I found your wallet but there tweren't no money in it; someone beat me to it." About that time I started thinking about Pulp Fiction and men in boxes jumping out at me." I started thinking no one knew where I was headed and about Ollie Stanton and his paralyzed wife downstairs eating me for dinner. I started thinking there was no way in hell I was going into that house.
I turned left into a surprisingly nice, new apartment complex, past a swimming pool full of laughing Mexican kids. I parked my car and saw who I guessed was my hero. Toothless, unsmiling, he handed me my wallet. "I'm having dinner with my wife downstairs; did I mention she's paralyzed? We're having fried pies for dessert." I said: "Thank you for calling about my wallet. I really appreciate this." Then he repeated: "Well, there tweren't no money in it; someone beat me to it." Stupidly trying to lighten an unusually unfriendly moment, I said: "This sure is a nice place. Nice pool, too." And he said: "If I want to swim; I go somewhere clean; I go to the river." Chilled to the bone but desperate, I said: "So you like pie and you're a truck driver; do you ever travel thru Arkansas?" "Yeah." "You really ought to try the DeValls Bluff Pie Shop near Brinkley." He said, "I go to WalMart each week and buy six fried pies: two peach, two cherry and two apple. This week they were out of apple so I bought four peach. My wife, she's paralyzed, is downstairs having a peach one right now." I said: "Thanks again", shook his hand, and got the heck out of there.
Oh yeah, it was a family thing. And the experience was absolutely worth sixty bucks.
