The Fisherman and His Bride
Mi Baja No Hurry No Worry
Jim and Lois Christie came to La Salina in mid 1969 and proved to be very popular and welcome additions to camp life.
Jim had grown up working for the Southern Pacific Railroad. He started working as a day laborer when he was just 12 years old. He worked his way up
through the ranks until he reached his lifelong dream when he became an Engineer.
Jim was a large, raw boned, Irishman who would laugh at the drop of a hat. He would also argue any side of an argument before the hat hit the ground.
He would lean into his opponents face, with fisted hands on hips, and very gruffly and loudly advise him that, “you don’t have the slightest idea
about what you are talking.” His stature, demeanor, and that simple statement won Jim most of his arguments without any further discussion. With the
argument won Jim would put his big paw on his foe’s shoulder and with that deep, gravely, voice of his exclaim, “ come on friend I’ll buy you a
drink.”
He was without a doubt one of the strongest men I had ever met. One time Frenchy, Harold, Jim, and I were trying to move a big slate pool table in
Frenchy’s house. Two of us were on each end but we were having absolutely no luck in moving that monster. Jim called a halt and told the three of us
to get on one end and he would handle the other. Well, Jim lifted his end and we all struggled with ours. That was when I decided that Jim could
‘win’ all of the arguments in the future.
He was really the best fisherman in camp and he kept in practice by driving his old, green, Baja Bug down to the beach where he would put in about
four hours of fishing each and every day. He always came back with a mess of fish. We used to joke about the fact that the only thing holding that
rusty old bug together was all of the fish scales, which covered it inside and out. You could smell his car as he went by. You could also hear him
when he returned if you listened closely for the clanking of the empty Tequila bottles as he bounced down the road.
Like I said, Jim was a great fisherman and we could count on him and Lois putting on at least two and sometimes three fish fry’s a year with everyone
in camp invited. We would set up tables on the main road in front of their house and eat, drink, and enjoy each other’s company for hours. In those,
early, days there never seemed to be any hurry and laughter always seemed to bind us together as a group.
Lois, more properly “Mother Lois” was without a doubt the best cook this camp has ever seen. If you got an invitation to dinner at the Christie’s you
knew you were in for a treat. She was as slight and frail as Jim was large. All of the Mexican kids in area called her “nana” and she was the guest
of honor at all of their birthday parties.
Lois had a way of making everyone she came in contact with feel comfortable and important. If you caught her and Jim at the Cantina she would always
pat the seat next to her and with a great, wide, smile say, “come on over and sit with me.”
As she approached her 82nd birthday her doctor suggested that she quit sipping Tequila. She was 86 years young when she passed away in the home she
loved so much. I closed her eyes as the Mexican men, women, children paid their last respects!
P.S. These were some of the 'real' Baja folks I have come to miss so much. Posting these stories allows me to be with them again, if only for a short
time.
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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