Waiting for Montezuma


El Palacio Presidencial, Mexico DF

Okay, the one thing that worried me even more than the drive to Mexico was the fear of getting sick there. You know, Montezuma’s Revenge. When I went to Mexico in 1978, my mother advised me as to what to eat and what to avoid eating in order not to get sick. Since she went to Mexico every year, I honestly believed she knew what she was talking about. She told me, and I still remember to this day, to avoid drinking the water and eating fruits, chicken, and eggs. But most important of all: “Don’t drink the water!” I was there for a month, and I really enjoyed myself despite depriving myself of some foods in the beginning.

When I took the bus to Celaya with my aunt and cousin, all my relatives were eating chicarrón and I couldn’t resist indulging myself. Besides, chicharrón was NOT on my mother’s list of foods to avoid. So, I really, really indulged on chicharrón! Well, the next day, I felt nauseous, me who rarely gets sick. Soon, I was vomiting and had the runs. Simultaneously! My aunt attributed my illness to the chicharrón I had eaten. I felt so deathly ill that the only thing that kept me living was the hope that I would die. But blessings sometimes come disguised. After I recovered a few days later, I was able to eat anything I wanted. I even drank the water without getting sick again.

So, when I went to Mexico this time, I dreaded the risk of getting sick again. I remembered my mother’s list. But then I thought that if I got sick immediately I could then enjoy the rest of my trip with my newly acquired immunity. I drank agua de horchata, which is rice water that is very tasty. I assume that it’s made primarily of water, unpurified water, that is. It even had ice cubes! Presumably, also made from unpurified water.

When I went to my aunt’s house, I ate some fruit (I don’t remember what it was called) from a tree in her back yard and she scolded me for eating the peel since I didn’t wash it. Well, I kept waiting for my impending onset of “discomfort” with Montezuma’s Revenge. I remained healthy the entire trip! I felt like a real Mexican!

DDR

Kiss


Once, soon after my son started getting into the latest cool music, according to his friends, my son asked me if I had ever heard of the rock band Kiss. He described the band before telling me the name because he just assumed that I had never heard of them. Not only that, but I also knew all their names. Wow! Was he in for a surprise!

I told him that not only had I heard of them, but that I also had all of their albums–on black vinyl, of course! He was shocked. I then proceeded to show him the Kiss albums and he was in awe of me. I truly believe my cool factor with him increased exponentially at that precise moment. Flattered by all this, I gave him all my Kiss albums. That nearly floored him. Then, I pulled the ace from up my sleeve: “I once went to a Kiss concert,” I told him. He was truly impressed by this. “And I can prove it, too!” I opened up the Kiss Alive album and pointed to a fan in the audience who resembled me when I was younger.

That was perhaps the coolest moment between my son and me! Sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

DDR

Newspapers


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The paper and ink newspaper as we know it is dying out. More people are reading the news on the Internet, including me. Newspaper deliveries are declining every year.

However, I still enjoy holding a hard copy of the newspaper. Besides, I enjoy crossword puzzles on paper rather than doing it on the computer. So, this morning, I walked to the corner coffee shop to buy either the Chicago Sun-Times or the Chicago Tribune after shoveling the snow from my sidewalks in 4-degree temperature.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that there were no more newspapers left at the coffee shop! I asked if they had already sold out. No! They were never delivered because of the cold temperatures and snow!

I remember when I was a boy and had a paper route, I always delivered the newspaper regardless of the weather! Once after a snowstorm, I wanted to ensure that all my customers received their newspapers, so I tied a cardboard box to my sled and went to pick up my newspapers at the branch office. All the other delivery boys laughed at me when they saw me pulling the sled. Even the owner of the delivery service laughed.

I rolled up my newspapers and placed them in the box on my sled. The other boys would deliver their papers using bikes and wagons as they usually did, or so they thought. Well, I delivered all my newspapers through about two feet of snow, even though it did take me a lot longer than usual. I was immensely proud of my idea of using a sled to deliver my newspapers even if everyone else laughed at me. The next day, when I went to the branch office to deliver the papers, all the other boys had brought a sled with them. I burst out laughing when I saw all the sleds! I couldn’t resist. Everyone complained about how they got stuck in the snow with their bikes and wagons. They took hours longer to make all their deliveries.

As I delivered the newspapers, I often fantasized about other things, the usual boyhood fantasies about cars and girls, in that order. I thought, if I were rich enough, I would deliver my newspapers from the back of my limousine. And, I wouldn’t even have to get out. I would have the chauffeur carefully place the newspaper between the screen door and door, but I would watch him vigilantly to ensure he delivered it properly. For the sake of variety, I thought that I would have seven limousines, so I could have a different color for each day of the week. This way I wouldn’t get bored. This was my favorite fantasy until my best friend Patrick pointed out that if I were rich enough to have a chauffeur and a limousine, let alone seven, I wouldn’t even need a paper route to earn some spending money.

DDR

New Year’s Day


Coins in a fountain in Toluca

Well, I didn’t do much of anything today to start out the new year on the wrong foot. But I haven’t broken any New Year’s resolutions either. Of course, the whole trick is not to make any resolutions at all.

Last year, I said that I would write a Blog entry each and every day of the year. Well, gentle reader, if you’ve been reading all along, you may have noticed some exceptionally long gaps between blog entries.

Sometimes I get too involved with my life that I forget about everything else. So, this year, I won’t promise anything, but now that I have adjusted to retirement, I will write more regularly. And I will work on my website some more. I really must organize it and put some actual content in there.

DDR

New Year’s Eve


Making tamales with TLC

I have many fond memories of New Year’s Eve beginning in my childhood when our entire family would go to my Uncle Simon’s and Aunt Mari’s house. The party always involved eating a lot of  Mexican food and real hard play among cousins. At midnight, everyone, I mean children, too, toasted with a glass of champagne. That was the only time of the year I drank alcohol–until I became an altar boy and my friend once talked me into taking a sip of altar wine before mass.  But I only indulged that once because I felt so guilty and sinful afterwards.

Once, we were in Mexico for New Year’s Eve and we celebrated by making tamales and eating them. In Chicago, my mother made the masa during the day and then made buñuelos at midnight as a way of ringing in the new year. I think that New Year’s Eve wasn’t as exciting once we stopped going to my aunt’s and uncle’s house. I don’t really remember too many of those later celebrations now. When I was married, I was content to stay home with my wife and son and watch the festivities in Chicago on TV. When I lived in Bridgeport, I used to take my oldest son to the attic window at midnight where we could see the fireworks downtown. When the twins were born, we moved farther away from downtown, so we could no longer see the fireworks from the window. But we watched them on TV, although not quite as dramatic.

Later, after my divorce, my Mexicana girlfriend decided that we would make tamales for New Year’s Eve. She bought a giant pot for the tamales and lots and lots of masa. We would make tamales together, just the two of us. Actually, I enjoyed making the tamales. In Mexico, I only got to watch the women of the family make the tamales; males weren’t allowed to touch the masa. My girlfriend showed me how to mix the meat into the masa and stuff the masa into the corn husk. She had made tamales a few times and actually knew what she was doing. We even made some sweet tamales with raisins. We had about six different kinds of tamales. We literally did this for at least two hours and the giant pot was still only half-full. However, she insisted that we fill the pot all the way to the top. We filled the pot at about 3:00 a.m. And I was exhausted!

But wait! She put a penny at the bottom of the pot where there was boiling water to steam the tamales. The flame underneath had to be at just the right temperature and you could tell if the temperature was just right because the penny would keep making noise as the boiling water moved it. The only time I really saw tamales made was in Mexico as a boy, but my mother and aunts cooked the tamales over a bonfire.

Well, I went to bed about 6:00 a.m. because I couldn’t stay awake anymore. She stayed up to keep adding water and ensuring that the tamales cooked properly. I didn’t realize they would involve so much work. She woke me up a few hours later when they were done. She had stayed up the whole time! We then ate the tamales and they were so delicious! We ate them later that day. And the next day, too. There were so many tamales that she put some in her fridge and froze the some in her freezer. And there were still some tamales leftover! So I took some home and put them in my freezer. We ate tamales until the Fourth of July! And we never got tired of them. We loved them!

¡Happy New Year! ¡Próspero Año Nuevo!

DDR