Lisa and I are visiting the East Coast of the US to gather with family to remember my brother’s daughter. The service was very moving with many friends and family members sharing stories.
I learned a lot about my niece. She was a good friend to so many.
My daughter with one of my niece’s cancer survivor friends.
Raegan’s positive attitude throughout her long ordeal was always positive and inspired many.
She loved all animals.
The evening of our family dinner had an empty chair at the end of the table. Her presence has been felt all weekend.
Maybe it’s my age, or the absence of my parents and the missed opportunity to ask them questions, that motivates me to write down the stories of my youth. Not spending time with my children and grandchildren, makes oral tradition impossible. So blogging it is.
The little house I grew up in. Two parents, five kids and a dog.
My father was a blue collar worker, something you see less and less in our country. He worked in a “machine shop” milling parts for large machinery. Every year the company had an employee picnic. I can’t tell you how much we kids looked forward to the day.
My dad worked hard, but he also loved to play. He loved the beach and swimming. William, Tomm, and Me holding Michael.
The event was held at Schwaebische Alb, a large restaurant/picnic/event center in Central New Jersey. It was named after a beautiful area of Germany filled with castles, verdant valleys and the mountains of the Black Forest. It was a perfect location for a day of family fun.
Schwaebische Alb Restaurant CLOSED1960
The picnic was a magical day. We kids were given free reign to play, eat and participate in a myriad of games and activities. There were unlimited hot dogs and hamburgers. Jersey corn on the cob floating in butter was served in the afternoon. I especially loved the troughs of soda on ice as we could have as much as we wanted, unlike at home where soda was off limits. My favorite was root beer.
Late in the day, chests filled with ice cream sandwiches, cones, dreamcicles, and rockets appeared. It was all the variety that was sold in the ice cream truck that came through our neighborhood in the summer, but Mom rarely said yes. We were in heaven.
I think, better than the food and treats were the games. Watching our parents, and sometimes joining them in three-legged races, sack race, egg toss (tossing raw eggs while getting further and further apart) and more. Seeing our parents relax and play was such a treat for us kids.
As manufacturing jobs slowed, my dad went to work in the “office”. His fellow blue collar workers shunned him.
My father worked many years for a company that valued its employees. There was a sense of family and belonging that produced some of my best childhood memories. I’m not one who longs for the “good old days” and I’m not sure why it came floating to the surface this week. Holding onto happy memories gives me hope for our future. Time to tell our stories.
Memories can shape our lives. We can run from them or toward them. And if they are significant enough, we can build little alters to them and freeze them in time. That’s what I did to the village of Cholula.
We never saw the volcano due to the rainy season.
I left home in 1973, twenty-one years old, and went to “study abroad” in Mexico. I lived with a local family, studied intensive Spanish and raised as much hell as I could. In those days it wasn’t much.
Making tamales with my Mexican family and fellow student Brian.
In 2013, I saw the youthful dream of living in Mexico realized as my wife and I retired and built a home on the southern most border near Belize on beautiful lake Bacalar. It wasn’t colonial Central Mexico, but you can’t have everything. I longed to go back to Cholula and visit my old stomping grounds. Boy was I in for a shock. A lot had changed in forty years.
Dirt roads and hand-made brick buildings have been replaced by cobblestone and cement block architecture. There is a modern indoor mercado that resembles all others in Mexico. People were fascinated by my old pictures but no one could remember where they had been taken.
This was the 1973 view from the Cholula pyramid looking down on the old mental hospital. I was fascinated at the time with the gardens (right) that the patients worked providing their own food and therapeutic activity.
Today the hospital is a beautiful museum with adjacent park and playground. The university is buried somewhere in the buildings in the distance.
Cholula has become a suburb of the state capital, Puebla. There are trendy restaurants and festivals galore. I think I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t experienced the quaint village it used to be. Frankly I was shell shocked.
A day trip to an old hacienda was worth the visit to see this exquisite talavera fountain.
The church of Tonancitla, one of the best of the trip.
Do not allow my letdown get in the way of visiting this magical city. My suggestions are 1) do your homework, there is much to do 2) find a hotel close to the center. The buses are not difficult to maneuver but conversational Spanish is useful. 3) check the weather (duh) Cholula’s altitude is 7,000 feet which makes it a great escape from the hot, humid jungle we live in. There is also a rainy season. Don’t let it put a damper on your vacation. Dress appropriately. Cholula is really a hopping place and well worth a visit. DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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