MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS: SEP 17 - OCT 19
Phone: 314-210-5303
If I was embarrassed to ask you for money for Erlinda, I’m even more embarrassed to tell you the follow-up. I told you the situation was urgent, that her operation was due very soon, and folks responded and cash came in. But when Erlinda went to San Pedro Sula to check in before the surgery, they told her, “Ma’am, you’re not even on the list.” They “re-scheduled” her for 2016! I’m afraid this is typical, postponing treatment till the patient finally just gives up—or dies.
I am so grateful to you, and Erlinda even more so of course! We got about $1600 from about 20 donors, which is wonderful, and your prayers mean even more to me because I get so discouraged sometimes, and your Spirit gives me hope. Erlinda put the money in the bank, where at least it can earn a little interest, for the time being. But that was not the original idea, so I feel like I plucked your heart-strings under false pretenses, and I’m sorry. From now on, I’ve gotta work with what I’ve got, no more of these “targeted” appeals!
Even a death can be a consolation when there’s time to prepare and say good-bye. My neighbor Mina reached her 90th birthday still greeting every visitor with a hug, and a kiss on the mouth! When she finally began to succumb to her age, she took to bed, so weak she could barely move, but she was still calling for family and friends by name to come get their hug and kiss. The night she died, we took my extra plastic chairs over to the house for the wake. Chemo and I were going to Progreso the next day on the 5:00 a.m. bus, but when Blanca, Nora, and Bebeto arrived to offer music as their prayer, I stayed all night. They went through practically the whole church songbook, songs Mina loved—and I’ve loved!—all these years. Actually, I did doze off and on, and when I was going to request one of my favorites, I thought, What if they’ve already sung it?
We went to Progreso for one of Nangui’s games, and his twins’ first birthday. Now, Nangui could not play in this particular game because of two totally unjustified yellow cards in the previous game, but he did not just sit on the bench. He sold baleadas at his family’s stand inside the stadium. It didn’t take long for reporters to notice, and they started filming. Now that HONDURAS-PROGRESO is winning again, they are the darling of the media, with at least weekly features, usually Nangui right in the middle of it all. And then I open up La Prensa and a two-page ad for Banco del Occidente, one of Honduras-Progreso’s chief sponsors, has Nangui smack in the middle! “We make the best even better!”
Honduras-Progreso was leading the whole game 1-0 till the very last minute—in fact, AFTER the last minute, minute 94 in down time—when a Honduras-Progreso defender deflected the ball into his own goal. Ouch!
But that did not dampen the next day’s festivities, little Ivan and Camila’s First Birthday party. And Nangui and Martha went all out—party favors, goodie bags, Mickey and Minnie caps, stickers, 2 pinatas, 2 big cakes, all kinds of snacks, 3 kinds of food, and special guests, Nangui’s teammates like Angel Tejeda, top goal scorer in the League, with their own kids. And did I mention there was a big, colorful tent, and tables decorated like Disneyland?
Someone might say, and I have to admit the thought crossed my mind, this is a little excessive, especially considering the tiny guests of honor have no idea what it’s all for. But Nangui was himself a year old at one time, in 1986, and he never got a party. His mother Santa was 23 at the time, according to my calculations, and she must have been 14 in 1977 when I first met the family, with her mother Argentina holding the whole family together making about 500 tortillas a day on consignment for restaurants around town, a family so poor they couldn’t even give Julio a proper funeral when he was killed at 18 in 1990, or his younger brother Joel later, jammed into the same grave. They never had a real birthday party in the 38 years I’ve known them, until now. Oh, I’ve been “doing” parties for them with the Pizza Hut or the Chinese and the cake and the soda, sure, but it’s not the same. Now Nangui’s got some money as a professional soccer star, and his bright fame has helped double or triple Martha’s baleada business, so IT’S CELEBRATION TIME, COME ON!
Then we went to Morazan for Fermin’s birthday. His mother Antonia wanted to give him a special party, but it was hard for Fermin to celebrate since his car had just broken down for the umpteenth time, and it looked like it was the end. Years ago, he told me had three dreams: own a house, own a car, and get his wife Maria as much education as he achieved. Well, Fermin and Maria have a house, they both have Master’s, and at least Maria still has a car, which breaks down pretty regularly, too.
We returned the next week for my namesake Miguel’s 13th birthday; it was the surprise of my life when Fermin called me 13 years ago. First of all, the birth was very complicated, touch and go, Maria and the baby were both on the knife-edge of life and death. “He’s Miguel, Miguel.” I was so confused, I thought it was a coincidence! “For you!”
Speaking of confused, I was really nonplussed when three boys came to the door in Morazan with what looked like a passport. “Did you drop this?” Huh? I looked at it as if it were a moon rock or something. Actually, it was Chemo’s Honduran passport that we got for him when it looked as if they might send him to the States for his open-heart surgery. How in the world…? “We just figured it might be yours.” I still have no idea how they made the connection—Luilly, Giulany, and Jose Luis—but the more I thought about it, the more astounded, even scared, I was at our good luck. Seems it slipped out of the folder I keep with Chemo’s “papers,” including his heart diagnosis history in case of an emergency. I think I may have scared them a little as I went on and on with my thanks and praise. I gave each of them 100 Lempiras, which they refused at first till I convinced them to get something for their little brother or sister.
We went to Tegucigalpa for Elio’s birthday, which almost didn’t happen. His wife Mema had just fallen and badly broke her left foot; they operated on her and put two pins in there that in the X-rays looked like rebar! An enormous cast up to her knee, and instructions not to stand on that foot for two months, absolutely! would have been enough to kill any joy, but Mema came up smiling and announced, “The party is ON!” No dancing for Mema, but everyone had a great time. As an aside, I loved the way Chemo helped Mema with every request.
While in Tegus, we stopped by to say hi to the Brigada, also in Tegus at the time. It’s such a beautiful mission, saving at least 2 lives daily for two weeks at a time, 4 times a year, including a blueish little boy that we saw and tried to encourage him and his anxious parents. “Chemo, show them your scar!” Ron and Alba were dead tired, and the brigada has become so well known that Ron said, “There are 800 kids in that room—I’m not kidding.” Kids waiting for evaluations; I hope he was kidding, because how in the world can they attend to so many children??
The big game—a showdown between the top two teams, HONDURAS-PROGRESO (HNP) and frequent national champion MOTAGUA—was over in about 25 minutes, as HNP scored 3 goals one after another right out of the gate. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t “go crazy!” every time. What I most appreciated was the good behavior of the huge crowd, piled in practically on top of one another. I soon had to stand, just to have the arm-room to snap a picture. Only a couple days before, two other teams in San Pedro had so many fights and commotion that the police fired tear gas into the crowd! The paper had a photo of a little boy sitting there in his team shirt, stunned and motionless, a white cloud swirling around him, like, “What is happening?” None of that in Progreso, best fans in baseball, I mean, soccer!
Next stop, ST. LOUIS!!! See you there!
Love, Miguel
