Memories of Lynn - UPDATE with photos

Lynn's 3 best friends, Teresa, Amy and Deanna

There will be a memorial service this Saturday, October 30, 2010, for my sister Lynn.  The tombstone with her photo was finally completed and placed on her grave.  Photos will be coming. I wish I could go but I've been home to Iowa several times this year and it is expensive every time I go.  So, instead, I've written something that I hope one of my family members will read.   

Memories of Lynn

It's been 8 months and 6 days since the day we received news that you were no longer with us.

I take that back. You are with us every day in our hearts and our thoughts. Sometimes I pick up the phone and think, "I need to call Lynn." And then I remember. The phone call call would be super-long distance to the heavens. So if I can't call you, then I must go on memories to keep you with us.

Memory #1 - You were always an agile child. I remember one time when you fell asleep in the crib with your legs in the splits and your forehead planted on the mattress. Do you think you can still do that?

Memory #2 - I must apologize for making you yell bad words at Ronnie Rooks, the neighbor boy, when you were about 2 years old. But the look on your face was precious when Ronnie came running in the house and chased you down. Ronnie only meant to tease you. He was such a tease.  But that was rotten of me. I'm sorry.

Memory #3 - Remember the time when you were about 8 years old and got caught stealing from the Hy Vee store? Luckily the manager knew the family and he told you to go home and have your parents call. Deana and I spent the day telling you how you were going to "get it" when Mom and Dad got home. You spent the whole day in nail-biting suspense of what was going to happen to you. I think that was punishment enough because I don't think you ever stole anything again in your life.

Memory #4 - Speaking of rotten older sisters, I have to make another apology. I'm sorry that Deana and I trained our dog Candy to attack you. You couldn't venture down the steps without the Maltese attack-dog ready to tear your socks apart. I don't think you owned a pair of socks without holes until sometime after your 18th birthday when the dog was finally too old and frail to attack.

Memory #5 - Pink. Your pink room,  Your pink clothes. Your pink prom dress. I'm wearing your pink Iowa shirt as I write this. But you are much prettier in pink than me.

Memory #6 - The Rick Springfield poster on your closet door. And the New Kids on the Block doll.  It was Joey, wasn't it? I teased your mercilessly about that. But you didn't care. You had learned how to handle the teasing after the Hy Vee incident and dog attacking years.

Memory #7 - The Square D years. For 10 years we worked together and I saw you every day. I'll never forget the day you pulled me into the broom closet and showed me a piece of paper that said you were pregnant. I told you, "You're going to be a mommy!" I was so happy for you because I knew what a great mom you would be. And I was right.

Memory #8 - Your awesome decorating skills. Your eye for color and putting things together in a room. I wonder where Andrew got that skill from?

Memory #9 - All I need to say is "Pee Wee Herman..... Ha, ha."

Memory #10 - Your wicked sense of humor. I've got to be careful with this one because I can't divulge too much, but I know about that "something bad" you confessed to doing last February. Don't worry. I won't tell and neither will the others.

Ten memories don't make a dent in the 40 years of memories I have of you. But I will keep writing about them so I can keep you with us forever. It was a sad day last February 24, but what would be even sadder is to forget you. I promise that will never happen. I love you, Lynnie, the Pooh.

Darwin's Theory of Evolution

Well, I could talk about the new house that we were forced to move to.  I could talk about how it is infested with bugs, and I have no kitchen. Or a railing on the stairs or upper landing. It's on a dirt road with ruts big enough to swallow cars whole. The dust is everywhere. And for the first week I had to turn on the shower to brush my teeth because there was no working sink in the house.  But no one has threatened us and hopefully it is safer.

But I don't want to talk about that.  Too depressing.  So let's talk about Darwin's Theory of Evolution and how it relates to dogs in Mexico.  If you believe in this theory instead of God as the Almighty creator of heaven and earth, then you believe in survival of the fittest. And it is only the fittest that survive in the dog and cat world of Mexico.  You see, I was feeding Gordy, the skinny dog, until Moose, the fat dog, shoved Gordy out of the way and took over the food bowl.  Gordy took his bony butt and wandered off.  I tried to coax Gordy inside the gate so I could shut it and then he could eat in peace. But, nooooo, not even starvation could tempt Gordy to accept my charity.  And then Moose figured out how to crawl under the gate and wait for her daily ration. I thought about taking Moose with me to the new house, but she shows too much food aggression to be around my Daisy Dog. And she is not starving. 

Darwin, if you are correct, Mexico must be breeding a whole new race of super dogs. Your namby, pamby cousins north of the border wouldn't survive a day on the streets with their dog bowls with names, knitted sweaters, penchant for belly rubs and squeeky toys.   And I won't be feeding any more street dogs.... unless they come in the house and kill a few bugs for me. 

A Rude Awakening

Last night I was sleeping peacefully when I got a rude awakening at 2:38 A.M.  Gunshots.  Grenades. Automatic  weapons.  I waited a few seconds just to make sure I was hearing what I was hearing before I nudged Sergio.  Yup, it was battle somewhere behind our house, but it was really, really close.  Sergio woke up Angeles and we huddled together between the bed and inside wall for about 20 minutes.

My family and my stateside friends have told me it is time to get out of Mexico and, definitely, get out of Reynosa.  If it weren't for Sergio and Angeles, I would have been gone by last summer.  What am I suppose to do?  Abandon them?  Thanks to the strict immigration laws of the USA, they do not have visas yet.  We are working on getting the visas and we want to do everything legally.

I was reading an article yesterday afternoon about a reporter who is tired of interviewing victims. http://www.borderlandbeat.com/2010/10/tired-of-interviewing-victims.html
It sounds a little cold and callous at first, but he is on the mark. If you read my last blog, it was full of anger over being threatened.  Although I am not thrilled about moving, I hope the new home is in a safer area where we won't be threatened, bullied or dodging bullets.    

WTF???? We've Been Threatened

I had a blog idea all lined up about food (again) in Mexico.  It will have to wait because I am going to put the word out there in case I go missing, end up dead, or, to the least, get beaten to a pulp.

WE'VE BEEN THREATENED!


I am a little pissed about it. I should be scared, but, NOOOOOOO, I am pissed off.  Here's the story...

On Wednesday, Sergio was home around 10 A.M. when someone came to the door claiming he was speaking for the comandante who, I think, is suppose to be the local head bad dude.  Sergio told him we were renters, not the owners.  The man said that our landlord is not the owner and we had until next week to get out or we would have a big problem.

WTF???  It's a good thing Sergio is much more diplomatic than I am.  If it had been me, I know would have told this asshole to go fuck himself and given him directions on how to do it.  And then I would be writing this from my grave right now, because I would be dead.  A little morbid humor always helps lighten the situation, right?

When Sergio first told me the story, I thought, "Yeah, right."   I mean, seriously, who goes around threatening people out of the homes?  What is there to gain? Did the asshole want to extort money to let us stay?  I wasn't there to hear the conversation, but I don't think the asshole asked for money. So what's the angle?  Does the asshole think he can move his narco buddies into the house?   So I talked to the landlord last night and, yes, I believe he is the owner.  His parents live next door.  He has the legal papers.  He built the house.  Maybe he owes the wrong people money?  He told me that 3 other neighbors have received the same threats.  When I told my story, I left out some details and when he told me the story about the neighbors, he filled in the same details that I knew but didn't tell him.

Now what do I think? Is this a real threat, or does the landlord want us out?  I believe the landlord is telling the truth, but, then again, who knows?  Or does the landlord owe the wrong people money?  Or are the bad guys so desperate they are running around trying to threaten people out of their homes?

I just spent a shitload of money setting up this house and now I am suppose to move? All I gotta say is WTF??  And WTF am I suppose to do?