The quiet

September is a quiet time on the island. The music stops and we sit. Septiambre and Octuambre are here: a play on the word for hunger, hambre. Visits to the pawn shop are delayed as long as possible. But some are already there now.
Most of the locals have found their cheaper apartments. The landlords are all full or totally empty. The last motos or laptops have been sold. Servicemen are johnny-on-the-spot. In too many households, pets have been turned loose to fend for themselves. Grandfathers go to the sea with their grandsons and give a few pointers about the art of free diving. Then they go to town and try to sell a few lobsters or return home with with a few pesos toward getting the power back on, or no pesos but a family feast
Day before yesterday, the morning after JoAnne Fox died, a kid who raises chickens "broke" my fragile chaya bush. An audience waited as Carmen came to tell me. She left the house with scissors and bags for people to pick leaves off the suelo, ground. She was the jefa on the scene.
Loved by all, chaya leaves are rich in calcium, protein and vitamin A. They make great tamale wrappers in addition to great enrichment of scrambled eggs, soups, stews, dips and, in a blender with water and some OJ, the ultimate tart, green electrolyte-replacing beverage. Great for kidney stones, too.
La Gringa is not stingy with her chaya, so the breaking of the bush surprised me. But at least the others had the respect to see what my wishes were. Whatever...I said to Carmen. My mind was with JoAnne.
So I sat. It was a perfect day, but I didn't go to the beach. I thought about about what made us think of each other as super friends. There was the IQ thing and how our brain cells were arrayed. "Ya know" was not just an idle phrase with us. Neither of us pursued a multi-lettered academic career, but in a conversation, could just say, ya know, to each other and get it. I think health issues put us more on the same wave length than even before.At another high school reunion, we joked about that and got caught up
We always recalled, especially at high school reunions, how JoAnne and I both had mono the same season - junior year in high school. I got super fatigue due to an enlarged spleen. Her vision went. Dad gave me drugs and looked into JoAnne's eyes and sent her to an eye specialist. She had a detached retina. Weak points of the body are occasionally driven over the limit in mononucleosis. She had surgery. I got cortisone.
My mom, a customer at the hometown bank where JoAnne worked after Dad died, kept us up to date on each other. JoAnne getting a job at the bank was our joke. When she worked for Dad one summer after the mono, there was never a day she could balance the ledger at the end. She'd call me and I'd say, "Did so and so come in an pay on their account today?" And it was always something like that. So cute because the cash drawer was always in Dad's favor, but why? Ya know.
We had the 35th a year early since no one thought she'd last a year. I had written a Plain Dealer story a several years earlier about a lung transplant patient from Lake County who went to Presbyterian in Pittsburgh to get it because the Cleveland Clinic was not yet offering them. She asked if I knew if he was still alive. No, but my guess was not. She knew. Ya know?
JoAnne had some good time left. She golfed, she enjoyed her family. The birth of every one of her grandchildern. But we both understood all her time was borrowed time. When I was home in June, JoAnne was failing and so was I, in an air of desperation as I could not see how I could go on without my $35,000 a year MS drug, interferon beta 1a, Avonex. Out of drug, out of money, was how I described myself to the neurologist who invited me into his clinical trial nearly 25 years ago. Patient 3 site 2.
Avonex is referred to as an immunomodulatory. I still use the cortisone occasionally to dampen the immune system in an attack. Anyway, JoAnne and I both knew a lot about manipulating the immune system, ya know? She fending off rejection of her lungs, me of my myelin.
JoAnne went after another transplant, but her immune system and heart were against her. Transplant committee against her, she a knew she was pretty much at the end of the line. She suggested she'd label her transplant drugs, some of them experimental, in case they would come in handy with the MS. Ya know?
I was near frantic about being able to replace the Avonex source, and my old doctor at the Cleveland Clinic was working with me. But I went back to Mexico early because I thought I could get it here at about $300 a month, which is less than cost of the waiting period and the co-pay on Medicare Plan D.
So I wrote my doctors in Ohio about the various suitable interferons I could get here, what the cost of the CCSVI surgery is in Merida (highly experimental yet seemingly effective) and that I had access, if I wanted, to a host of immuno-supressive drugs in JoAnne's pantry from over the last years.
I don't know if the jugular surgery got Biogen moving or if my doctor realized that he was under the threat of JoAnne and I cooking up an immuno-supressive brew, but he got Biogen to grant me the drug free of cost for the next two years.
So, I was sitting here, not spending any money because the few dollars I have are coming to Ohio with me in 12 days. I'll be paying my respects to JoAnne at her grave with Mio , a best friend of hers from grade school, actually before grade school.
All those sentimental and grateful thoughts were coming into play yesterday afternoon when Carmen breezed in with a platter. A chaya-masa and hardboiled egg loaf with roasted, ground pepita seed and tomato dressing. A dish that belongs in a cook book. Desde el suelo. From the ground. Eggs from a neighbor boy.
So that's what I was thinking yesterday as arrangements were being made for JoAnne Fox's funeral and the music stopped on Isla Mujeres. Ya know?



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Construction Zone, Phase II

It feels like a rut! The side is done, painted and everything. Unfortunately, my camera is very broken and I haven't figured out the spare yet. I am technically challenged! So no pictures for now of the dark green and orange fence.
But life amongst the rubble has entered a new phase. Aguakan has replaced the water meter in the front, elevating it about 10 inches and Eriso spent yesterday bending rebar into canes and cutting the tubes for the posts. His wife ran over to ask for money for a new hacksawblade , so you know he's been working hard.
Losses in the project: The gardenia tree - its roots had dug into Pizza Mia's foundation. And the chaya bush, which had gotten tall and unsteady.
Chaya is a wonderful thing to own. Its leaves are very green and are great in scrambled eggs or a blended drink. It is high in calcium and an enzyme to help uptake more calcium. It has a lot of phosphorus and the green with the highest amount of protein known to man.
Periodically, neighbors would drop by and ask to pick leaves. The bush was God's gift, starting from a cutting after Hurricane Wilma took the cedar and planted in it's place. Folks always offered to pay for the leaves, but I always said you can't pay for God's gifts. When the Super gets them in, the cost is 4o pesos a kilo.
Before the front phase started, I took three cuttings and placed them in water. On Tuesday, after leaves were harvested for me, Eriso and a couple neighbors, folks passed by and picked it clean as the cadaver lay on the sidewalk
Yesterday, two women came by and harvested a lot of cuttings. Chaya grows well without much soil and flourishes in the hot, wet and dry elements of the island. I suspect the cuttings will produce a lucrative bounty for Maya merchants and households throughout my nearby neighborhoods. Almost on cue, the city came by and picked up the skeletal remains.
Jose went about looking for a full time job yesterday. He learned on Saturday that Miguel cannot take him back from his furlough. And since his efforts for me slowed down considerably, and since he was becoming emotionally dependent on me, his mamita also had to kick the little duckling out of the nest. Come back when I am your supplemental income, not your sole source.
He did stop by yesterday seeking some advice. I had made meatballs and lima beans in Boston baked bean style (yes, Isla has brown sugar now!) and he, of course, loved it. And he was off to Villa Vera, in hopes of being hired. Me hopes so too.

Bearing fruit

Not all fruits are obvious. Above are the seeds of a non-cocount bearing palm. Similar palms' seeds are treated as nuts, cocoyol, and boiled in honey for the holidays.
Fruits are now setting on the mystery plant in my garden. It is indeed a papaya.

The fruits are tiny now. But with the rains, growing daily. Is is a yummy papaya or a so-so papaya? I'll let you know soon, I hope.
Tonight is the big Lora's First Anniversary bash. We went last night for a site survey, and she said it was fine. Doggy Daddy Miguel open up a can of dog food and was amazed at how fast she woofed it down.
I wrapped dog treats, chews and cat treats to sell as fundraisers for Amigos los Animales and PEACE-Isla Mujeres. And this morning, Jose and I put a few more fliers out and then he disposed of gasoline/thinner from cleaning the generator and washed out the can. I did a load of laundry and hung it since the low front that has hung here for a few days is scheduled to move on.
Jose also cleaned the roof and washed some pool filters. I made us eggs with chaya and pepper jack cheese, tomatoes and chilis. And we split a bagel. He's getting the hang of them now!
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Want to help the causes and can't make it tonight? Here's a link!
http://www.peace-islamujeres.org/