« March 2006 | Main | May 2006 »
The place on the left is where I would have liked to have spent the entire month of April. Here are more pictures of my grandsons, Calligan, and Gabe in Mexico.
Grandchildren and grandparents have special relationships, although I am never quite sure what it is, and I wish someone would give me a definitive answer so I could try be a good one. . The grandsons above are convinced that I can teach them to draw. I have had many painting classes. Maybe, possibly, I could have had a drawing class, but if I did, I was so bad that I convieniently forgot the horrible experience.
Painting was another thing entirely. I loved painting. I loved the slapping of paint on the canvas. I loved the colors and I certainly loved aquiring the tubes of paint. I stopped painting for several reasons: one it is a lonely endeavor, two, I had paint everywhere ( on my carpet, on my walls, on my underwear and in my bed), and finally I lost my self confidence. I also would get frustrated and then I would scribble with my paints. Not a good idea. In any case, early this week I went and bought, for the boys, drawing supplies which included actual drawing pencils and better paper than news print or their commonly used cheap computer paper.
I had no clue how to teach these boys. But we all sat down, including my daughter, who to my knowledge, has never had a drawing pencil in her hand. Teaching, for me. is as hard as drawing. The older boy was glad to have the company, but he was going to draw what he was going to draw, trucks and buildings. He made an exception and drew a eraser and a pencil. I was trying to show them how colors changed on an object according to the light. A concept I know know is pretty advanced especially when using the yellow, unblemished grapefruit that I had suggested. But the younger boy "got" it. He really started to draw according to my preconceived notion of what was to happen. We sat at the kitchen table under a self painted portrait of myself. The younger grandson did mention that I was a much better painter than drawer. After about 50 minutes we cleaned up the table and the boys thanked me. They said that they had a good time. And I believed them. My daughter said how relaxing it was. The pig she was drawing was pretty good. Everyone said they wanted to do this drawing again. But, here is the deal, I could have brought some crappy paper and a pencil sharpener for their own crumby, stubby pencils and sat down and chit chatted, and that would have been just as cool. They liked me sitting there.
On the way home today, I shopped at Barnes and Noble for children's books on drawing. And yup, what they should be drawing is monsters, vehicles, and buildings.
On the other hand, I made young George a cape with trucks printed all over, and with red ties. By all opinions (including his cousins) the cape was great . . . a success. George has yet to wear it. You never know about Grandmothers.
My Dad had a love /hate relationship with Mexico. He went to Mexico City many times, and he also sold his products in towns close to the border. He liked the Mexican way of life and he liked the exchange rate. But in a way he was deathly fearful of being thrown in jail and no one knowing where he was, and not being heard from again. He traveled enough that he heard a lot of stories. So when he went over the border by himself, he always called Mother and told her that he was going, and how long he was going to be gone, before she was to call the border patrol.
This time that we were on the vacation we traveled in our Buick woodie from Tijuania on the Mexican side of the border over to Mexicali and then up to Calexico. We got a late start that day because of all of our shopping. I forgot to say that we all bought hurachis (sp?)which must have cost 50 cents a piece and I loved those shoes. For my young feet, they were very comfortable. Anyway, it was one lonely road. I think my parents were on edge. We talked about if you were a criminal and did not want to be found, this was the place to be. There were huge rocks and bolders. Now with infrared cameras you cound be found, but not then. Climbing through that country on foot seemed impossible, yet I know it must be done today.
The sun was going down and this made the road even scarier. We came around a curve and there was a road block. Peasants, men , women and children were milling around, and some were in a line going up to a table. The Federalis told us to get out of the car.
During this era everyone was vacinated for small pox. We all used to get our vacinations on vacination day at school. Older people, like our parents, had scars the size of a dime or a nickle. Serum was put on your arm and then a needle was used to poke your skin. There was generally a reaction and a scar. Everyone had their scar. By the time my brother and I had ours, the scar was down to the size of a pencil eraser. But it was always administered in a very clinical way.
There on that Mexican road stop, no one spoke English, and we did not speak Spanish. Apparently everyone was being vacinated, and if we wanted to leave there, we too would be vacinated. We pointed to our scars, but scars did not count. Dust was billowing. They could have used some Dustex. We were in the middle of no where. Truly. My Dad said that he was going to "Call out the God damned United States Army", if they did not let us go. By "go" they were not going to let us leave. It was getting darker and we were in a stalemate for probably 40 minutes. Then Dad said, "Okay". We lined up at the table for the vacinations. My mother was crying. That made the kids cry. Dad told us to stop the damned crying. We got to the table and stood while they put serum on the arms and then they took a sewing pin and poked at us. Mother could not believe that the pin was not steel. We were free to go.
The rest of the trip was quiet, as we did not want to make my Dad any more mad than he already was. We got to Mexicali and stayed the night back in the U.S. in Calexico. Then went on to stay in a very nice motel in Palm Spring with 112 degree heat. But we swam and there was air conditioning so for us it was fun. We went home in about two days up the California Central Valley. It was at the Giant Orange, north of Bakersfield, that Mother looked around to the back seat, and instantly she knew my brother had a fever with spots. She knew the Mexicans had given us small pox. We even stopped at a hospital to have this confirmed. But, no, they said he had the measles. Eventually all the kids had the measles.
This is Calligan in Mexico. The pictures of him show that he was having a blast over Easter vacation. However, this picture shows him taking traveling seriously.
I was 14, when my father took the whole family on a working vacation. He was truly a traveling salesman. He sold products which were wetting agents, so I think the Mexico/Barstow area must must have needed Dustex. Dustex, when added to water, helped to keep the dust down. He sold the product to race tracks. We went on this vacation because my mother desperately needed one. Staying home with the four kids, while my Dad had a lot of fun traveling, was not her idea of what marital duties she had signed up for. The heat of summer produced low season prices meaning we could stay in nicer places. We drove by the great Coronado Hotel in San Diego, and played on the beach but did not stay there.
From San Diego we went south to Tijuana, Mexico. There were dog and horse race tracks who could use their dust kept down. We walked the better section of town. Dad kept us away from the "street walkers". We certainly did not have street food. But we did go to a very nice store which featured very bright fun clothing. All of us bought something to wear. Mother bought a circular skirt,the boys got shirts, and my Dad several. There I bought the swim suit of my life. It was home spun woven cotton fabric lined with another piece of heavy cotton fabric. There was some bloomer finish at the legs. It had a harness neck, and the bathing suit zipped up the front. But the most outstanding feature was the egg yolk yellow, black and white print. There was precious little white. I thought this bathing suit very chic. Aside from the fact that it dragged down to my knees when it got wet, I wore it with pride the following year on the Italian Riviera. I never went to the beach or pool any where that people did not comment on what an interesting suit I was wearing.
More on Mexico tomorrow.