Baja Bernie - 1-10-2012 at 01:22 PM
Hola! Gus was at the gate and I was just sitting sorta hollow like in my patio. Don’t rightly understand how that can be because the wife and I had
sold out to Phil a few years back. When we decided to sell our little slice of paradise we agreed that we would pay particular attention to who would
be replacing us and how they would get along with our neighbors.
Sure it was silly but that he exactly what we did and we figured that Phil was the perfect fit and after many conversations we gave him the
keys—Remember Mr. Gomez of “God and Mr. Gomez” fame—“you’ll know you own the house when I give you the keys.”
Anyway, I only made one mistake with Phil and that was I failed to notice that he was lazy and the first thing he did was tear a small part of my
heart out when he destroyed over 50 bougainvillea that graced our patio and provided shade and comfort as they covered the gazebo. We had done a good
deal of our entertaining over the past 25 years on the patio and had come to expect that they would always be there.
So Gus is at the gate and I am sitting under the gazebo waiting, as I had for so many years for his call which meant we might talk with each other or
even more common we would just smile and grunt as we failed to discuss much of anything.
You all know that I am about as old and dirt and Gus has a good ten years on me. I am sure that, perhaps, his wife Delfina remembers that he is
really not a Mexican but I guess that I am about the only soul in the whole mesa that shares that knowledge. I used to think of all the stories I
would write about this man and how his family had come to La Salina way back before I was born. Yes, that was in the most fine year of 1936.
He used to tell me about when he was a kid and they still herded cattle from La Mision Valley down through the canyon of the Tiger and on into
Ensenada. He also told of feuds and barn burnings and how nobody went out of the house without a pistol at his belt. Perhaps, one day I shall put
quill to paper and record a few of these.
So, anyway, I am sitting in my patio and Gus walks in and does something that neither of us have done in over 40 years—he puts his hand on my shoulder
and simple asks, ‘what is troubling you my friend.’ Unbelievable, the words started flowing like a dam had been burst. He listened, very quietly,
and then he laughed and asked if I had a soda. Soda for him and a beer for me and the words ended in a silly trickle. As I always say—“Baja is about
Friends Helping Friends.”
He ever so kindly advised me that I was being rather stupid if I thought that how a few of the newer gringos were acting could possibly have any
impact on how my Mexican friends thought of me. He reminded me of how he and I had worked to neutralize Sam when his pushy ways began to anger the
Mexicans and how we all laughed at the antics of a couple of gay guys who had moved into the mesa and felt that they were way above the average
Mexican who owned the land they merely squatted.
I heard the rustle of the light on shore breeze in the bougainvillea and dosed off in the filtered sun. Suddenly, I awoke and found Gus talking with
his son-in-law Hector. Something was definitely wrong here because I clearly remembered consoling Hectors wife after he had died of stomach cancer a
few years back. I had been so angry because Hector was one heck of a young man and he had had to suffer through a very painful cancer without any
meaningful treatment because the Mexican government did not have the funds to properly care for one of their own citizens.
Again, Hector laughed, as I focused, and asked why I had not dropped off a copy of my last book at his wife’s home. Confused, you bet! It was only
then that I realized that these two friends had come to visit me in the dead of the night to help me back to my feet after I had stumbled over my own
stupidity.
Hector smiled as he told Gus how he had found that I had an ability to crawl right under a Mexicans skin and see what was in his heart. Hector gently
explained that I should not allow a few misplaced folks to get under my skin.
And so my friends I do know that we all have our history’s—and you will just have to live with my stories ‘cause I ain’t done—or thanks to the
internet you may just chose to hit the delete button.
My God! It is four o’clock in the morning and my visitors have left me alone to stare at what I have writ.…………….six hours before the first
game…..what to do!
BajaBlanca - 1-10-2012 at 07:52 PM
nice story Bernie.... I just finished reading Mi Baja NO HURRY, NO WORRY and it was a good read indeed. I especially related to one part where you
complain about the quads racing by and making noise ! I recently posted that the quads here in la bocana are driving us crazy - thank goodness they
are so mistreated that most of them have broken down...what a relief.