If you haven’t noticed, I’m posting things I wrote when I was in Mexico last December. I’m still in somewhat of a rut when it comes to writing and the only meaningful thing I’ve pposted in a few weeks was a private password-protected entry. If interested in reading that, let me know.

December 21, 2005

Dear Ralph,

This place is just like I remember, except with less life, dirt, cows and more boredom. In fact, I don’t ever remember el Cargadero being boring.

The first time I remember coming I was eight. My mom and dad sent Danny and I to spend a good chunk of the summer with Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni. One of my aunts, tía Chepina, came with us so we wouldn’t have to fly alone. Danny and I loved it here. We played all day with the kids in the plaza and watched Rosa Salvaje at night. Danny can make friends with anyone. Even though I was all snobby ’cause I was coming from LA, and considered myself better than these small town kids I still made a friend or two. Well, I think I mainly played with the kids who were related to me.

As a kid, I didn’t think that my friends would be destined to leave el Cargadero and cross the border (con o sin papeles) once they reached working age. Of course, I didn’t know all that then. For all I know, those kids knew their fate.

Seventeen years ago, Chepe and Mamá Toni still had the energy to take us places. Then we went to Zacatecas and visited the minas there. They were cold, but incredibly cool. We went to Jeréz, a ten-minute drive away, often enough. We visited the home where Papá Chepe lived, picked tunas from the nopales, rode donkeys on the trails in the cerros, and bathed in the presa.

I returned that summer with a tan, speaking more Spanish than ever and singing “Rosa, salvaje soy yoooo.”

Now el Cargadero is just quiet. You say that all the people left Zacatecas. It doesn’t look like that in Jeréz, but as soon as you come to el Pueblo del Cargadero, it’s different.

Miss you,
Me