Coming and going
Based on very personal experience, let me tell you there is a considerable difference in coming to Mexico and going from Mexico.
Fourteen years ago, old friends Charles and Ginger Rudder pulled up Tennessee roots and moved, lock, stock and dinner jackets, to Mexico, to Jalisco, to Ajijic on the north bank of Lake Chapala.
Charles was a former dentist, retired early. Ginger, considerably younger, didn't act all that retired. They came with a positive, enthusiastic outlook. They were going to enjoy the sunshine and a revised lifestyle that cost a lot less than the one they were leaving.
They rented a home that had almost everything they needed. That meant they never unpacked some of the stuff they hauled south.
I remember their early progress reports, the excitement, new friends, mild grumbles over red tape and bureaucracy, colorful descriptions of ripe mangos and raspberries, a hint of sadness about their inadequacies in Spanish -- and don't flush the toilet paper.
Ginger was convinced that topes grew and expanded from week to week. She said friendly, little speed bumps she met on Monday mornings somehow became monstrous mountains by Saturday nights. They shook up the shock absorbers and rattled her fillings.
The Rudders kept inviting us to visit. They patiently explained some of what we were missing. They convinced us that Cancun, Acapulco and the border cities we had seen were not the real Mexico. There was so much more to discover and experience.
We finally said OK. They met us at the Guadalajara airport. Ginger, a pert one, was waving a bright orange Tennessee pennant just to be certain we didn't miss her in the crowd.
We had reservations at La Nueva Posada, a relatively recent inn made to look historical. We met the matriarch of the Eager family. Our room faced the lake. The garden dining area was awesome. We were treated as royalty. We got two extra towels.
The Rudders couldn't do enough. They took us everywhere to see everything and introduced us to interesting Mexicans and gringos. Ray and Bev Morrison and the Alfredo Zavalo family made lasting impressions.
We now know this was the seed that changed our lives, that caused us to buy a lakeside home and a white Volkswagen bug and become very serious sightseeing snowbirds.
Through the years, the Rudders did what good friends do, they answered questions, showed us the way, explained shortcuts and always included us in holiday gatherings. What a blessing that they introduced us to Dr. Jose Ricardo Heredia Granados, acupuncturist (among several other things) who miraculously made a bad backache go away.
Through the Rudders and their network of acquaintances, we met some remarkable people, including Jose and Isabella, Tom Sandiland, amazing Grace Contrades and Grady Allen, source of several stories for MexConnect.
The Rudders allowed us to laugh. Best may have been the evening Ginger came, special delivery, to our house. She arrived in the back of a police truck. She said she was a pickup, that she was just walking along, behaving herself, when the young officers stopped and made the mistake of asking where she was going.
Alas, things change, sometimes almost overnight. Ginger was diagnosed with cancer and died in what seemed just a matter of days. Some of the fun times went with her.
Doc rebounded reasonably well. He moved to Chapala. He held court at sidewalk cafes. He was a great resource for newcomers. He knew where to get whatever you needed, be it plumbing parts or plum tomatoes.
Over time, we noticed but hated to admit that he was getting older, slowing some. When he was ill, it took a little longer to bounce back. He wasn't as confident driving his car. He needed a strong arm to help navigate steep steps.
Now comes the bad part. He's giving up a sweetheart rental deal (no rate increase in four years), giving away books, packing what he can carry and disposing of other stuff, including that white dinner jacket. He called to ask what he should do with the ancient computer we had given him.
It was a sad conversation. His heart remains in Mexico but he's going back to the United States, to spend time with his sons and their families and get free medical treatment and medicine through Medicare and the Veterans' Administration.
Oh, he'll be surrounded with loving support. He won't have to deal with higher electric bills. He gives up some independence but he can claim a chair at the coffee shop or putter around the garden or call anybody in America.
He says when he has regained his strength, he'll catch the next bus back to Lake Chapala. He says he might return sooner if the grandchildren aren't the absolute delight he anticipates.
We have no defense against getting old. We can only hope we're still around if he makes it back.
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