A Different Halloween

I innocently went into town last night with my camera and a bag of candy. It was Halloween and I was remembering all of the Halloweens when Ned and I made reservations for dinner and after dinner went to the San Francisco Hotel and sat in the bar where we could see out the door. The first few years there would be a few children who painted their faces or wore a costume that they probably also wore in the Locos parade. They were out looking for candy from the gringos. Sometimes it would be three or four boys about seven to eleven years old running in a pack. Or it might be an older sister shepherding her siblings and that might include a wide-eyed three year old on her first Halloween adventure. So cute. A few of the groups would notice us sitting inside the bar having a margarita and they would rush in holding out their plastic grocery bags for candy afraid that the management would rush them back out before they got their treat. We wanted to talk to them but all they wanted to say was 'hola' and 'gracias' and run back out to collect more goodies.

Then we started to see a few adults who were on their way to a party dressed in Victorian costumes with painted skeleton faces. But basically the Jardin was maybe a bit more crowded than most nights but not much.

Well, friends, things have changed and changed more than I realized. Now there are any number of Calaca events. Calaca is a colloquial Mexican Spanish name for skeleton or skull and you see it used mostly during events for the Mexican Day of the Dead festivals. Here in San Miguel it has turned into a three day holiday of events that are mostly initiated by the gringos. That is not to say that the Mexicans don't participate as well because I saw a lot of school children and young people wearing the calaca makeup but the gringos do seem to having a great time with the costumes and parties.

As I said, I innocently went into town about 5 PM expecting last night to be about the kids and candy. The Jardin was already very crowded. I can't imagine what it was like by 7 PM. I didn't stay. I walked on out to Fabrica Aurora for their art event. Surely if the Jardin was that full of people the Fabrica would not be so crowded. I was wrong again. It, too, was packed with people and Calacas. I had a great time wandering from studio to studio, looking at the art and stopping along the way to talk with friends.

Just about the time I decided that I better try to get a cab and head back across town I met my foto friend, Sally. She was ready to leave as well and invited me to join her for dinner at Don Lupe Grill with some other people that I knew. It was a fun Halloween but very different than what I expected.

In some ways I'm sad about the changes that are happening around Day of the Dead. As I thought about it after I got home last night I also remembered that I had gone to the cemetery yesterday morning and the traditional things were starting to happen. Trucks were coming in loaded with flowers, food and flower venders were setting up their tents. Families were starting to clean graves and repaint the names on the tombstones. Families were greeting friends and walking with each other to their family gravesites. The vendors of the sugar skulls and little animals are set up in town, the bakeries are baking the traditional bread and families are getting ready to make their home altars to honor and remember their loved ones.

So, in a sense, the Calaca festivals are like another layer on the traditional celebration of Day of the Dead. And I think I like the Calacas better than the connotation that Halloween has of haunted houses, malevolent ghosts and goblins who are sinister. The Calacas who walk among us in San Miguel, although they do remind us of death, are not evil spirits who are out to do us harm. Well, no harm unless we have one to many drinks with them at the festival.

I'm working on an altar for Ned. Yes, I have the tequila bottle sitting on it. I still need to buy some Snickers. I can't have him dropping by and not have Snickers for him. Snickers and tequila. That was my Ned.

Fifty-eight Years Ago Tonight

This time of year is always busy because of Christmas and New Years but even more so in our family. I have two nephews born during this week of the year as well as Ned's father's birthday was on the same day as our wedding. So of course I pulled out the Wedding Album. Here we are. Now husband and wife.

In many ways it is hard to believe this was 58 years ago but the hats and the suits and the horn-rim glasses say, 58 years ago. Looking at these pictures haven't made me sad although I wish Ned was still with me. I feel blessed that this was the beginning of 55 years together.

The Halloween Candy Man

Since I built Ned an altar this week, I've been thinking a lot about him. This altar thing is a wonderful tradition and I hope it becomes more entrenched in the United States. It isn't attached to another holiday. It is just about remembering loved ones who have gone ahead of us. I was raised to take flowers to the cemetery at Easter and Mother's Day, Father's Day and Christmas. Not a bad thing to do but it was another thing to do along with cooking, cleaning and entertaining for the holiday.

Now Dia de los Muertos is a day all to itself. The thing you are remembering and celebrating is the life of the one you loved. And even better is that I can build my altar right in my own home and every time I see it I think about how much Ned loved his tequila and sangrita or red wine or Snickers. Yes, all of those things are on the altar. And yes, he would sometimes have a Snickers along with his tequila and of course with his red wine.

So, any way for the last couple of days I've been thinking about the good times. Like the time we had tiny Snickers bars for Trick or Treat. We didn't have many kids come by so Ned and Tom Robinson had a great evening eating the bag of Snickers and polishing off a bottle (or two) of red wine. I've been thinking of all the Date Nights we had in the Centro where we sat at a table in the San Francisco Café and watched life go by while we ate and drank and talked. I still don't know how a couple who are married as long as we were could still have anything to talk about but we did. I've been thinking about Port Aransas when the kids were young and we built bonfires on the beach while kids had wiener roasts and played games in the sand. I've been thinking about the great trips we took. Sometimes I even have to chuckle at some memory.

Some people think their loved ones return on Dia de los Muertos. I don't know whether that happens or not at this time. But I do know that I feel Ned's presence often and always when I  really need him.

This was Ned in the Jardin on Halloween, 2011. He had just finished a round of treatment in Houston and we had driven back in time for Dia de los Muertos. There were lots of kids and it was the last time he handed out candy for Halloween. Yes, that smiling man is my Ned.

The Reunion

Me, 1954

I don't usually look backward but I have been doing that in the last couple of weeks. I've sent in my check for a reservation for my 60th high school class reunion. Actually it isn't the 60th this year. It is the 59th but my class is combining with the class of '54 for the big event. Sixty years! It doesn't seem possible.
 
The class has had reunions in the past but for one reason or another Ned and I only went to one and that one was a long, long time ago. We kept up with some classmates for about ten or twelve years but by that time some had moved away or across town. Our kids were involved in school activities or sports and we drifted apart over time.

It was a large class of about 400 people and I have to admit that after graduation, it was like I left some of them on the school steps. So my memories of them are that she had long hair or he was in the ROTC or she was going to school in Louisiana. I have a big gap to cover to find out what has happened to them and where they are now. Today, I exchanged emails today with a classmate and in about 15 lines of text he hit the highlights of the last 60 years. I think there is a lot more to learn about between those lines of text. But it was great to connect again.

I've also been exchanging emails with another classmate for the last couple of weeks. What fun that has been. We certainly knew each other in high school but we were involved in different activities. Now that we are connecting again, we are finding so many things we have in common. I don't know why we weren't the best buddies in high school.

Milby High School has been around since the 1920's. Ned's Dad graduated from there in 1933 and so  did Ned's aunts. Ned and I graduated from Milby in 1955. There have been additions to the school since we graduated. It is much bigger but another renovation is about to start. I haven't been in the school since 1955 although I've driven by just to take a look several times in recent years. I've gotten permission to go inside and photograph while I am in Houston this summer. I don't know what I'll feel when I walk through the doors but I hope that my camera will find some of the memories from 60 years ago.

Yes, that is a picture of me. It was made on an Easter Sunday, 1954. I'm wearing a hat. I made my dress and the dress also had a tailored jacket that I could switch with the shawl. Oh, readers, do not laugh. That was the fashion of the day!

Day of the Dead

Sometimes I think that globalization is watering down the traditions and customs of countries but there is a Mexican one that I've adopted and whether I'm living in Mexico or Texas, it is one that I plan to keep. It is Day of the Dead.

These days in Mexico it is getting commercialized with a sort of Halloween adaptation on October 31, with Calaca Festivals and Catrina parades on November 1 and 2. What kid wouldn't want to dress up and collect candy on Halloween. I understand the business community promoting events that will bring people into town to eat in restaurants and stay in hotels. The Day of the Dead I'm talking about is what happens in homes and with families.

About dark on November 1, I was walking into town. A door was partially open and I could see a small altar with candles, food and marigolds and even marigold petals sprinkled across the floor toward the door. Around the walls sat family members having a drink and talking. No doubt they were remembering loved ones.

On November 2, I went with some friends out in the campo, way out in the campo to a cemetery. We had to park on the road and walked about 1/2 mile on a rutted road with big potholes filled with the rain from the night before. There was one truck stuck in the mud and evidence that a few others had gunned the motor to escape other potholes. As we neared the cemetery vendors had set up stands to sell flowers, candles and food. Rancho dogs scooted in between the potholes and people to scrounge for tidbits accidentally dropped.

I took a deep breath when we walked through the gate of the cemetery. It was packed with people. It was so beautiful. Many families had turned the dirt on the grave so that it looked like it was a new grave. And flowers, not just marigolds but flowers of every kind and color from cosmos picked in the campo to stems of red gladiolas bought at a shop. Flowers in empty jalapeno cans and plastic bottles, huge round wreaths and even flowers stuck in the freshly turned earth.

Some family groups were visiting but most were gradually moving toward the far end of the cemetery where that was a three sided shed. They were waiting for the priest to arrive and for the Mass to begin.

Last year I had a large altar for Ned. This year was a little smaller. I decorated it with flowers, candles and some of my favorite pictures of him. Of course, I had red wine, his favorite tequila and Presidente Brandy. AND the biggest Snickers I could find. Many Mexicans believe that the spirit of the person comes back to visit during Day of the Dead. I think I always feel him by and a part of me but Day of the Dead is such a wonderful way to remember him and celebrate his life.

The picture? I made it in the campo cemetery. At one grave site there were two kind of raggedy dressed men. They seemed to be alone and not a part of any family group. One had white hair and he was stooped. He was turning the earth of the grave. The other, younger, the man you see above. He was putting flowers on the grave. Was this the grave of the wife and mother? I was touched. And it is another one of those times when, if I were a writer, there is a story to be written.

Remembering Our Dad

Although this video would be better if it had some music playing along with it, doing that is beyond my knowledge base. Just imagine you are hearing Willie Nelson's melancholy version of Blue Skies. Still, I want to share with you this video that two of our sons quickly put together for Ned's memorial service in Houston and we also played it for a Celebration of his life last Fall. Gary was able to come to San Miguel for the celebration and he spoke about his Dad. (I wish I had recorded it.)  Mike and Doug were unable to come so they wrote some of their memories of their Dad which Gary and I read to our friends. I'll share parts of what they wrote with you.

From Doug:
When Mike and I made the slide show of Dad’s life, I spent a lot of time looking at pictures that I had never seen before of Dad from either before I was born or with friends at times when I wasn’t there. But all these pictures show the same person that I knew in the family pictures; always smiling, always with a sense of inner peace and strength.

I can definitely tell you the traits I didn’t get from Dad. I didn’t get his quiet inner peace. I certainly didn’t get his ability and desire to think things through thoroughly before leaping—probably the source of many of his gray hairs. But one thing I think I did get from him—and I am thankful for it—is his ability to talk to anyone and to be liked by everyone. 

If that were the only thing he gave to me, and there are many more, I would still be truly thankful that I am his son.

PS: I surely hope at some point today someone will have a Cazadores or two in his honor!

From Mike:
Some funny little things I remember.....

Dad, feeling younger than his real age, getting on the trampoline and attempting a flip. He went straight up and then straight down on his head. My friends (David Glover, Jeff Fink) thought it was hilarious, even though he hurt his neck. For a while after that, every time they would refer to Dad they would say E (pointing up with a finger) then B (Pointing down with a finger)  Mercer.

The otherwise calm, reserved, mild-mannered Ned Mercer completely loosing it when I was first driving. I especially remember a night we were heading into town and I was getting on to 45 from the feeder at West Mount Houston. It was a short feeder entrance and there was still some traffic on 45. He decided I wasn't accelerating enough to get on and started repeatedly pounding the dashboard with his fist saying "go, go, go." It scared the hell out of me so much I think I actually slowed down.

Dad always took us to buy the Christmas tree when Houston was its coldest/wettest. He had to be the one putting up the Christmas lights and each light had to hang down at precisely the same angle for the proper Christmas light effect.

From Gary:
Although Gary didn't write about his Dad for the Celebration of Life, I think this picture, which was made a few months before Ned died, tells a lot about their relationship....the family resemblance and the love and tenderness between the two of them.

Remembering My Ned

I have this picture of Ned framed and hanging in my bedroom. I talk to him every night before turning out the lights. Not all of the readers know My Ned and so I'd like to tell you a little about him.

Ned was a native Houstonian. When I first met him, he was a big man on campus at Milby High School in Houston. He won a bunch of awards for academics and sports. He played a mean game of baseball for Milby as well in several city leagues. Now he has a couple of grandsons who have inherited the baseball genes. He was also a champion bowler and participated in amateur and semi-pro bowling leagues and was in a number of State Championships.

After graduating from the University of Houston with a degree in Chemical Engineering, he worked for C P Hall Company until he retired. He was in technical sales and business development. During the last 10 years he was with C P Hall he developed distributorships for the company in Mexico. While a deacon in our church, he headed up several big building projects. At Champions Golf Club, he was on the Board of Directors. He was always involved in the things his boys did like little league and Indian Guides.

He was married to me for 55 years. He was Dad to three sons, Ned to two daughters-in-law and Pawpaw to four grandsons, Bubba to his sister. After a three year battle with lung cancer, he passed away June 23, 2012 surrounded by our family.

40th Wedding Anniversary

 

That is the abbreviated version but there is so much more to Ned Mercer.

I wish we had recorded his eulogy in Houston. It was given by a long time friend, Jerry Stovall. I dated Jerry in Jr. high school and when we went to high school, Jerry and Ned met and became best friends. Jerry, who has a gift for public speaking, says that Ned is still his best friend.  He told some stories about Ned that had our friends who had lived through some of the shenanigans laughing and the grandsons giggling and then taking a peak at me to see how I was reacting and to be sure that their Pawpaw really was such a wild and crazy guy.

Jerry set Ned and I up on our first date. I was angry with some boy and told Jerry I needed a date to show off with at some school function. So, Jerry said, "How about Ned." I said, "Ned who?" Jerry said, "You know the guy that has those leopard shoes."

I know that many of you remember Ned in baggy cargo pants and faded T-shirts but I have to tell you the man was a dresser until he retired. Back in 1954 the stylish thing was to wear "drapes" which were pants with lots of pleats around the waist and a kind of pegged trouser leg. That was Ned.... tailored drapes and leopard shoes and a perfect flat top hair cut....which was different from a crewcut.

Well, yes, I wanted a date with him. He was good looking and he had leopard shoes and a blue and white Oldsmobile convertible. One date and that was it. Neither one of us went out with anyone else after January, 1954. We were 17 years old. A year and a half later at the senior prom we got engaged. A year and a half after that we were married. A year and a half after that Mike was born. If you are thinking we were really young, you are right. But just remember that we were married for 55 years.

After we married, I worked full time while Ned studied Chemical Engineering at the University  of Houston and he worked part time. After Mike was born, I stayed home with the baby and Ned worked 40 hours a week on the night shift at Goodyear Rubber Plant and went to school in the daytime and carried 18 hours a semester. He didn't graduate at the top of his class but he did damn well. Looking back I have to wonder how he did it. He was a very smart man.

He loved traveling especially in Mexico. Our first trip to Mexico was about 1972 to Acapulco. We went with four other couples and stayed in John Wayne's house on a cliff overlooking the ocean. That was the beginning of our fascination and love of Mexico. We saw most of the Mayan ruins in Mexico as well as most of the 16th century churches.

If I thought up some place I wanted to see or photograph, Ned would get maps and start figuring out how to get me there. He was a map man. He always supported my photography and was my navigator, travel director, photography assistant, driver, tripod carrier and translator.

My tripod carrier

After renting in San Miguel de Allende a lot of times, we bought what we were thinking would be a second home. Once we decided to live here full time, I wanted to buy a different house. Not Ned. He liked being in a very Mexican neighborhood. He liked talking to his Mexican neighbors, hearing the roosters, the trucks and when some of the teenage boys got drunk and got into fights in the street and the police came, it gave him some great stories to tell.

He loved figuring out how things worked in Mexico. And a lot of people came to depend on his knowledge of how to get things done. One of his dreams was to become a Mexican citizen or permanent immigrant. He achieved that dream a few months before he died when we came back to Mexico in the middle of some tough chemo. He was granted Permanent Immigrant Status.

Ned was always the same even during the three years he was fighting lung cancer. Optimistic, even tempered, gentle, unpretentious, warm sense of humor and wanting to spend time with family and friends. He was a very special man. There really aren't any words to tell you how much I miss him but it seems like when I need him the most I find he is still with me.

Rest in Peace, Sweetheart,
Rest in Peace.

Father's Day

My Dad about to walk me down the aisle.

Ned with his boys. Doug was almost one, Gary was two, and Mike was five.

Mike and his sons, 2005.

Doug and his sons, 2006

I am blessed to have such wonderful Dads in my family. Your Daddy always has a special place in your heart. I think of him often. Ned.....what can I say.....I still talk to him everyday. I miss him. He was a wonderful Dad. I still think he is around watching over his "boys" and his grandsons.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is one of those hard days for me. Actually this trip to Houston has been difficult. It seems like everywhere I go I am flooded with memories of Ned from the last two years he was alive and we had rented the apartment while he was taking treatment. But Mother's Day was one of those days that even if we did something with the family, he still did something special for just the two of us.

One of his favorite things to do was buy lobster and we would have a lobster feast on Saturday night. Would you believe that yesterday I walked into the HEB grocery store and one of the first things I saw was a huge table of ice covered with fresh lobster. Tears welled up. I was wiping them away but I caught a person or two looking at me kind of strange.

Last year we put off the family Mother's Day celebration for a week. I don't remember what was going on, probably some of the grandson's ballgames. We went out for brunch at a very nice place and it was lovely because the restaurant wasn't overrun with people and we had great service. But when I think about it I remember that Ned wasn't okay. And he was frustrated that things were going beyond his ability to keep up.

This was just a little over a month before he died. Looking back now I realize what effort he was putting into being with the family and making it a great day. I thought I was quite realistic about Ned's health but I realize now that although I knew it was coming, I was in denial that the end was so near.

I am missing him this weekend. I really miss him on the occasions when he and I celebrated. I miss him when I see a glimpse of one of those moments between couples who have been married a long time, a moment when they turn to each other and they communicate, most of the time without saying anything. Times when there is such intimacy from a shared love and life. It is these moments when I am lonely and my heart aches. I remind myself that I would not have these heart aches if I had not had so many, many wonderful and intimate times with my dear husband. I am so grateful for our life together.

Guilt

The normal definition of Survivor's Guilt has to do with someone who feels guilty that they survived in combat or a natural disaster, a widespread layoff or some such major catastrophe. However, I have to tell you that not only I, but several of my friends who have lost spouses, have felt guilt about living and enjoying life after the spouse is gone.  I don't know whether that fits the psychological definition of Survivor's Guilt or not but it is a real feeling.

Maybe, these lines from  the song "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" in the musical  Les Misérables express it best:

.....forgive me, that I live and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
.....There's a pain goes on and on.

I've told my family and friends that I feel guilty about still being here and enjoying life without Ned and they have all told me that I shouldn't feel that way. That Ned would not want me to be unhappy. I heard what they said but I have still felt a heavy overcoat of guilt.

Sunday was a lovely day. I was in San Miguel. The sun was shining. The skies were blue. The Jacaranda was in bloom. It was Palm Sunday. Ned and I always went into town to see the Processions. Today the Processions were wonderful and I photographed them and talked with friends I met along the way. Then I had a iced coffee at Starbucks and sat in the lovely patio of the old colonia building that houses Starbucks.

My heart was singing and I was happy until the tape started playing in my head about how could I be happy when Ned wasn't here to enjoy this beautiful day with me. But then I heard a voice that asked me, "If you had died first, what would Ned be doing?"

What would Ned be doing? He would be here in San Miguel. He would be going to the gym three days a week. He would be on his computer. He would be going out with friends. He would be taking care of house repairs and watering plants. He would cook breakfast  for himself and sometimes dinner. He would have the car here and he would drive to Costco and Home Depot in Celaya or Queretaro. In the late afternoon he would sit up on the terrace with a drink in hand and watch the sunset reflections in the windows back toward town. And, I think, Ned would be asking some lady friends to go to gallery openings with him and out to dinner because he liked to do that but he would not do it by himself. He would be making a life for himself. Then the voice asked, "Isn't that what you would want him to do? To be happy?"

Suddenly I realized that Ned would want the same for me, for me to have a full and happy life. I know my friends and family told me that but now I've heard it from The Voice, really heard it, for the first time. I think that maybe I can now get past the guilt, not the grief, but past the guilt.

The image of the fern was taken in the courtyard at Starbucks. The fountain is always so fresh and tinkly (is that a word?) I always take a picture of it when I have my camera with me.

Strength, Peace and Comfort

I'm not Catholic but the Catholic church has been a part of my life since Ned and I started coming to Mexico back in the early 80s. First it was my fascination with the churches strung along the old road between Cancun and Merida. Every little village had a church built on an elevated piece of ground. I quickly learned that most of these churches were built on the foundations of a Mayan pyramid. That led to some research and a five year photography project of 16th Century churches in Mexico.

During that long project I spent a lot of time just sitting in these churches as I waited for a Mass or wedding or a funeral to be over so that I could walk around and photograph without disturbing the people who were worshiping. I came to love that time of just being still and quiet in these amazing structures that were built and consecrated to God. After we came to San Miguel I continued to stop in one of the churches when I was in the Centro to just to sit and feel near God. It became my way of renewing my spirit.

After Ned was diagnosed with cancer, I would stop in one of the churches and pray. At first I begged for Ned's life but later I asked for strength and peace and comfort for both of us. I'm still stopping in the churches and asking for strength and peace and comfort. I believe that God is still doing just that....giving me strength and peace and comfort.

This image was made in the San Francisco church this week. Wilting bouquets of white roses were on all the side altars, probably left from a wedding.

A Sleeping Pill

I think I'm doing good. Everyone else seems to think I'm doing good but sometimes, I'm not. I think from now to July I'm going to have some hard days.

The memories of the last times we did something together are so vivid. It is like it is double etched in my brain. The memory is beautiful but it reinforces the loss of never having another day like it with Ned.

The first Friday in March is the day of El Señor of the Conquest. Last year as many other years, Ned and I went into town. We had dinner at Brasserie and I wrote about it here. I can remember the exact table we sat at in Brasserie. The flowers in the fountain. The concheros walking toward us on the street as we came out of the restaurant. The bench we sat on eating ice cream. This year that video was playing in my head, over and over in a loop. When I went to bed, I couldn't read a book. All I could do was toss and turn. Finally at 12:30 I got up and took a sleeping pill. I don't take one very often but ocassionally they are a blessing.

Serendipity, Or Not?

Over the last week or two I've been looking at netbooks and tablets on the Internet. The marketing for them highlighted the ability to draw and write with a stylus. That started me thinking about doing just that. Now along comes this workshop, The Artists' Journal. Scroll down to the end of the link and you will see a description of the workshop lead by Susan Dorf.

I've signed up for it,  I'm so excited about this.  In the past I have done a little life drawing and just a bit of sketching for fun and some oil painting many, many years ago. As you can see from this timed drawing in a class, I'm perfectly terrible in these mediums but I've had great times doing it. Also, I've kept the Artist's Way journal for years but never added any sketches to it. So I'm ready to explore something along the lines of an artist journal/sketchbook. It might be a creative stimulus to my photography. But at the very least, I think the workshop will be a really fun day.

Ask and ye shall receive. I am still amazed at how often this happens especially in my creative life. I don't think it is just serendipity. I do believe God and Ned are taking care of me and opening doors.