When writing about siblings last week, I remembered that this week is the twenty-fifth anniversary of my brother’s death from brain cancer. I thought I’d repost a blog I wrote earlier this year and take a week off.
Still miss you every day Michael.
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DOS TORTAS
I am reading the book, Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano. It’s the story of four sisters, their individual personalities and how their close and connected lives fall apart due to death and questionable decisions. It has me thinking about my four brothers and where we’ve ended up as adults.
My oldest brother once told me that the worst day of his life was the day I was born. Nine years older than me, he was the fair-haired solo grandson and center of my parents’ universe. As the only girl and eldest of the next four children born in six years, the blame fell to me, oh well. He taught me about sexism, refusing to include me in the rough-housing because I was a “girl.” I hated being left out but I adored him. He came for a visit to Bacalar in December 2023. Since then we talk every few weeks and enjoy long conversations.
My next brother and I were always tight. We had special names for each other when we were little, Boody and Sany, My mother used to say that she held us, one under each arm to go to the bathroom. We were eighteen months apart. Today we talk every weekend like clockwork and he is my best friend and confidant. I’m not sure how he got to be so smart but I greatly appreciate his calm demeanor, insights and advice.
Brother number three and I haven’t spoken in a year. When I had my accident last September (2024), he called both Lisa and me multiple times a week, to check on my condition and progress. I felt cared for. That all changed with a world-exploding US presidential election in November. We were on opposite sides of the aisle which left me in shock. Many families deal with political differences by simply not talking about them. We’ve butt heads too many times and this was the proverbial last straw.
And my youngest brother, who I was very close to, died in 2000 of a brain tumor. His daughter is now in my life and I feel blessed to have her.
I haven’t finished the book but I’m hoping that the sisters work out their differences. For me, three out of four connections aren’t bad. I don’t hold out hope that brother number three and I will work things out. And don’t give me that, “but you’re family”. Some things blood doesn’t seem to be able to heal.
DOS TORTAS
Years ago when I was trying to find myself as a newly minted “baby” dyke, I attended numerous women’s only events. The Michigan Women’s Music Festival blew my mind as I spent a week camping with a few thousand women in the woods of northern Michigan. Sisters were doin’ it for themselves, and I was agog.
Locally in Austin we had weekend gatherings that I eagerly participated in. At one retreat I recall joining in for an opportunity to let my mind wander and imagine the life I’d like to create. Eyes closed we were led through a dreamlike visualization process. I came away with a clear vision of living in a community of women. I saw myself wrapped in a towel able to walk to swim. Swimming has always been important to me and a big contributing factor to picking Bacalar and this beautiful Laguna. This week I was up early and capturing the sunrise that is particularly lovely this time of year. Enjoy.
DOS TORTAS
Two weeks ago I exchanged text messages with my sister-in-law and somehow the conversation went off the rails. She was angry, and probably didn’t appreciate me pointing it out to her LOL. I tried calling, thinking a conversation could clear up the misunderstanding. She did not answer and told me to “back off!”
My brother and I talk every weekend. It is an important relationship to me and I thought to him as well. It is now two weeks that he hasn’t taken my calls. This from the person who told me that if there is a problem, “people just need to talk it out.”
I remember as a kid, going with my grandmother to visit her sister. They hadn’t spoken in years, long after either one of them remembered why. When my great aunt answered the door, there was a moment of, “what do YOU want?“ before they fell into each other’s arms with tears and mutual apologies.
I don’t know what happened with my SIL. And I REALLY don’t know why my brother has gone silent. I have been sad and confused. I am far from perfect and if I say something hurtful or stupid, let’s talk it out.
At the same time, I will not let anyone steal my peace. As of today, I am done with the tears. If I have to, I will get on a plane and knock on their door. I don’t know how our relationships got to be so fragile. Maybe by the time this gets posted everything will be worked out. Fingers crossed.
DOS TORTAS
Addendum…I spoke with my brother today. I won’t go into details, but it was apparently a big misunderstanding on my part. While I don’t buy it, I’m willing to drop the subject. Such weird times we live in.
When our air conditioner went out last week, we contacted Mario who had done all the original electrical work on our house. He had worked with a handful of laborers to bring our vision of a home in Mexico into existence.
We hadn’t seen Mario in a while and he brought his wife to see our obra de arte, work of art. Watching his excitement at showing her around his work, gave me new eyes. Living in this house, I sometimes forget how beautiful it is.
I find that many houses in the US are beige, gray, black, white and brown with the occasional touch of color being a turquoise throw pillow. I find neutrality boring. Our house has blue floors! It was one of those risks that could have been a disaster but turned into a WOW. We forget how striking it is because, well, we live here.
Thank you Mario for reminding us what an obra de arte, work of art we live in.
DOS TORTAS
We were looking for a house sitter and found a friend. Whenever we leave our home in Mexico, we must find a house sitter, someone to care for the dogs and manage the house. Michelle was recommended after she had visited Bacalar last year. We found a real treasure.
We have had mixed results with previous house sitters. Walking out the door and handing the keys to the house and car to a virtual stranger is not without anxiety and consequences. We have been lucky and any damage over the last twelve years has been repairable.
On several occasions we have found folks who have continued to be friends and returned to hang out on the lake and play with the dogs. But none like Michelle.
This crazy woman fit right into our quirky lives and we will miss her. We became “sisters” and Lisa’s mom became Mom to another daughter. Even the dogs have a new “Auntie Michelle.” She left on Friday with a promise to return. The house already feels empty.
Thank you Michelle for coming into our lives and being someone to talk to, a swimming companion, a dish washer, a sous chef and friend to Lisa’s mom. You have added laughter and companionship that we didn’t know we needed.
DOS TORTAS
I started back to physical therapy this week after six weeks of traveling and minimal exercise. The immediate goal is to walk without a limp and be able to step into my shorts one leg at a time. I’m coming up on a year since my accident and it’s time to kick the healing process into high gear.
My physical therapist told me that in order to build muscle and improve balance, I need to work out HARD with weights and it’s going to hurt.
He isn’t wrong. I hurt from my hair to my toes and I’m not even back at the gym yet. We hauled exercise equipment down from the States to Mexico and it’s been put to good use.
I can now walk stairs, stepping one leg after the other, rather than relying on my uninjured side to do the heavy lifting. Hurray for small improvements, especially considering I only began walking with a cane the end of January. Thanks for all your encouragement and support. Little things make a difference.
DOS TORTAS
As we wended our way back to our little jungle paradise, Lisa and I were both supremely happy to be back in Mexico. The US is exhausting and insane. We can deal with our broken mini-split air conditioner and the assortment of challenges that show up daily in Mexico, better than the drama going on in Texas, Washington DC, Alaska and every corner of the country.
This week I went to a Tuesday-night sketching group that has been resurrected in Bacalar. It was so much fun. I’ve been watching portrait drawing on YouTube and itching to be challenged.
All sketches done with my non-dominant (left) hand. Timed 3 -15 min
When I travel, I like to carry an art journal. Sketching in the park, and a quick drawing of Lisa’s 90 year old Aunt Edna (who follows my blog) are lovely ways to remember a trip. I also like to doodle, in the airport, on a bus or wherever I get bored with scrolling.
Try it.
DOS TORTAS
Whenever we travel, my caffeine addicted wife has to find out where she can get her morning fix. Many hotels have those cute little coffee makers in the room but our basic digs in Portland did not.
So every morning she got up early to tootle across the street only to return with two fist fulls of large coffees for our morning pick-me-up. On our last morning, my lovely announced upon her return, “I think the barista was hitting on me,” That got my attention and of course I wanted all the deets.
The use of a tried and true pickup line gave it away. “Are you here alone?” We had a good laugh, noting that the wedding ring and two cups of coffee was not a deterrent. I have seen both men and women flirt and/or hit on her over the years. Mostly she is pretty oblivious to how hot she is, having been happily coupled for thirty years.
In Austin a few days later we were meeting our niece for dinner. Lisa dropped me off in front of the restaurant and went to park the car. I sat at a tiny table next to two young men, MUCH younger than me. One of them struck up a conversation telling me that he liked my “look”. I didn’t realize that I had a look, but my orange, tiger patterned cane must be the newest fashion statement.
If you are an Instagramer you would know that the latest trend on social media is age disparate couples both homo and hetero. Some have 20-30 years between them. Lisa and I have twelve. Now I don’t really think the guy was hitting on me, but who knows. Maybe I also still have somethin going 😂 on.
DOS TORTAS
After ten months of recovering from an accident where I broke my femur and had surgery, I get down quite often. I want to be able to walk without pain or limping. The other day, in a tearful fit of feeling sorry for myself, Lisa reminded me how far I’ve come and said, “you’re doing great, you’re still healing .”
Lisa has my back which makes all the difference in my healing process. Her comment also reminded me of when my mother had my back growing up.
I missed a lot of school as a kid due to asthma. In those days there wasn’t really any treatment. One day I returned to second grade having forgotten to bring my rosary. Bless their hearts those nuns had a lot of rules. I believe my “fine” was a quarter (25 cents) and I refused to pay it. I was about eight or so with an inflated indignation and sense of fairness.
The end of the school year came and Sr Angela refused to give me my report card until I paid up. I went to my mother who marched with me to the principal’s office to let me plead my case. The teacher was called on the carpet and turned over my report card tout suite.
It wasn’t the last time my mom had my back. She bought me long white gloves and a rabbit fur cape for my junior prom. They were adornments that I didn’t know I needed. God knows where she got the money, but it was important to her. I was her only daughter and no one had done those things for her.
After almost thirty-one years I have so much gratitude for my wife. Having her in my corner means the world to me. Also thanks Mom,
DOS TORTAS
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